


They Never Wanted Me Around (Except to Calm Their Fears)

by realpoutydadsurvives (collettephinz)



Series: Once More With Chris [4]
Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse), Resident Evil - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Denial of Feelings, Disassociation, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Miscommunication galore, Misunderstandings, Panic Attacks, Past Abuse, Resident Evil 4, a plethora of angst, customary violence for canon, hence the series name, internalized self hatred, it's literally the whole game with chris, monsters and gore and stuff, past falling out, plaga mind control shit, self deprecation, switching POV, tentative relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-26
Updated: 2019-06-26
Packaged: 2020-02-04 19:23:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 126,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18610918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/collettephinz/pseuds/realpoutydadsurvives
Summary: Deep in the rural backwoods of Spain, Ashley Graham, the president's daughter, has been sighted after having been kidnapped by unnamed terrorists. USSTRATCOM Agent Leon S. Kennedy is sent in to find the girl and bring her home at any cost.When Agent Kennedy goes dark for six hours, BSAA's Cpt. Chris Redfield is deployed to find out what went wrong.(Resident Evil 4 with Chris slammed into canon)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> OH HERE IT GOES HERE IT GOES HERE IT GOES AGAIN (OH HERE IT GOES AGAIN)
> 
> wowee alright so my summary is shit let's just get that out of the way
> 
> i'm prooooobably also gonna do another smaller series that will take chronological place before this one from Krauser's POV cause there's some important conversations i can't actually put in here cleanly ugh i'll do my best XD;; writing so much action is fun but you may notice that i'm cutting down on some of the runaround! RE4 is a damn fun game but it's not exactly streamlined for narrative purposes. i'll leave major plot i promise :) 
> 
> also i thank my lucky stars that BSAA was formed in 2003 while RE4 takes place in 2004 what a stroke of fucking luck or maybe just a stroke who knows *i don't care it works perfectly for what i have in mind*
> 
> let's hope Ashley isn't too annoying! i tried to make her a little more human and Hannigan is-- well, she's word for word, true to her character, i only added a single word to her canon dialogue and that's it XD i'm all about that accuracy :P
> 
> i hope y'all enjoy this one!!!!! starting out with the precious Kennedy

_To tell you the truth, I even thought about ending it - several times, actually - with just a quick bullet to the head. But I didn't give up._

The violence of the nightmare had Leon lurching awake on the floor of some shithole shack in the middle of rural Spain, his clothes still soaked and making him shiver, his body aching like he’d been hit by either a truck or some god forsaken water monster that wanted to swallow him whole. The irony wasn’t lost on Leon, nor was the gravity of the situation as he caught sight of his own blood still staining the leather of his left-hand glove.

After everything— all of the hell he’d survived, all of the pain, the abuse and trauma. After all of that, he was going to die here, on what should have been a simple rescue op, thousands of miles away from Sherry, surrounded by cultist freaks that claimed he had the same blood. No way to fight it, no weak point to shoot, not villain to topple down and beat. After everything Leon had been through, some bullshit disease or whatever was going to be what killed him, and that—

Really fucking pissed him off.

After fucking everything and it was his own body that quit on him? Why couldn’t it have done that years ago, back when he’d been a kid? Why couldn’t his body have given up _before_ he’d been shoved into this bullshit world of B.O.W.s? Why come this far only to quit now? 

He scowled and used some of that anger welling in his chest that never really went away to give himself the energy to peal himself off the floor and stand on shaky legs. Dying or not, he had shit to do. It wasn’t like he hadn’t lived every day expecting to end up a corpse. Maybe, if he was lucky, one of these cultists would actually get an axe in his skull before the disease got him. Even though Leon didn’t want one of these assholes to have the pleasure of killing him, whatever was in his body seemed painful, and dying slowly seemed like the worse way to go. 

Leon’s communicator crackled with static, telling him Hannigan was trying to reach him. Leon didn’t know what to think about the serious woman with the red rimmed glasses. He figured he’d been given a handler because the President wanted to keep tabs on Leon after the Krauser incident two years ago, when the special ops soldier had gone missing after being discharged for his injuries and Leon had ended up being the last person to see him alive. It probably seemed suspicious for Leon to have been seeking out the man despite only having known him for a single op, but— that had been one hell of an op in its own way. 

The matching blade Leon had burned a hole in his mind and he knew that somewhere out there, Krauser had the other to the set. Call him sentimental, but Leon was pretty tired of being abandoned so flippantly. He clung to what little he had left. The communicator sounded again and Leon scowled at himself for thinking so much before pulling it from his waist pocket— relieved to find it wasn’t waterlogged beyond use— and answered.

 _“Leon, it’s been six hours since our last transmission,”_ came Hannigan’s voice, human and almost a relief to hear. Leon had underestimated how jarring this assignment would be. _“I was starting to get worried.”_

“Don’t you mean lonely?” Leon teased before he could think twice. Flirting was basically the healthiest way he could handle his pounding heart rate from that nightmare he’d woken up from. What had it even been? There had been something in his veins, something that made his eyes red like a monster. God, should he even tell her? If Hannigan was his handler because Leon’s abilities were in question, maybe it was a bad idea to instill anymore doubt with him possibly having contracted a deadly disease. Bare minimum at best, don’t mention the blood. “Anyway, I— started to feel dizzy. Then I guess I must have lost consciousness.”

 _“Lost consciousness?”_ Hannigan repeated with a twist to her brow. _“Maybe that has some connection to what the village chief was talking about…?”_

Leon grimaced, hoping she was wrong. “Hmph. Can’t say. But I’m alright now.” Fucking hardly. “I’m gonna continue my mission.” 

_“Leon—”_

He tucked the communicator away before she could finish and told himself that as long as he got Ashley Graham home safe, a few white lies about his wellbeing wouldn’t matter.

It was raining outside, the heavy drops hammering on the roof above his head and dulling his auditory senses. He’d be able to afford some stealth with this rain, but it also meant the cultists of Los Illuminados would have any easier time sneaking up on him as well. Leon searched the small shack quickly, finding a letter that didn’t have a name beneath the words scribbled. Leon could only assume it was from that Luis Sera, the flirting Spaniard that had said he was an ex-cop. Judging by the note, Leon wouldn’t put his money on finding a Luis Sera in the local law enforcement system. He seemed to know a lot about what was going on, like where Ashley would be and what was needed to find her, some fucker called “El Gigante,” which wasn’t hard to figure out the meaning of, and even what was making Leon so sick. Luis thought he couldn’t help Leon. Did that mean it was truly fatal?

Leon steeled his jaw and resolved not to think about it. _“God bless,”_ Luis had wrote to him. _“If I could help you, I would.”_ Something about the man made Leon nervous simply because he knew he wasn’t being told the full story. And if there was one thing Leon hated the most, it was having important details hidden from him out of some bullshit need to protect him. Like keeping Leon in the dark had ever saved him before. He searched the last of the shack and found some handgun ammo and left it at that, ducking out into the heavy rain with a grimace. He had a feeling he was going to miss being dry by the end of tonight. He wished he still had his jacket, wished he could get warm. Being cold was basically the worst thing for him these days. It didn’t help that he’d wasted six fucking hours and the sun was down.

Leon huffed and told himself he could call himself a piece of shit later. For now, he followed the path that led between some shorter cliff sides, eyes warily up in case the cultists decided to drop another boulder on him. The superhuman strength they were showing, coupled with heightened pain tolerance against being _shot_ , had him worrying that this really was another B.O.W. shit fest he was getting himself into. The T-virus just wouldn’t leave him alone.

There was a shout ahead, Castilian and useless for Leon. He brought up the Samurai Edge “Rot” and held it at eye level, inwardly betting on how many shots to the face it would take to put this old man down, when—

The man’s head burst open, holy shit, his entire skull just cracked and blew apart, tentacles whipping wildly from his neck, the man still walking forward like he was somehow alive. The squirming mass of flesh reached for Leon and Leon almost couldn’t move for a moment by how absolutely disgusted he was. “Guess it’s fucking _something_ ,” he muttered to himself before sending three slugs into what had once been the man’s face and cursing when it did next to nothing. He had a shotgun and a rifle across his back, but limited ammo for both and no idea if it would even work. The thing stumbled closer, arms outstretched along with the hungry tentacles. Leon didn’t have a lot of time to think this through. If it was a shot to the head that took out the T-Virus, he was sure a shot to the head extended beyond just Umbrella’s shit. And Umbrella was supposed to be gone, the newly-instated BSAA had ensured that with the Umbrella trials, so what the fuck was this?

Leon could find answers later. Spray was good for how close this thing was getting, but Leon wanted to _decimate_ the thing before it could get its hands on him. He brought the rifle around, prayed that the .223 caliber bullet would be enough to stop it. Lining the sights of a rifle so close had Leon terrified of missing. The tentacles were so close that the force of their writhing disturbed Leon’s hair. He let out a breath and pulled the trigger, beyond relieved when the eldritch horror was shredded and the body of what had once been a man dropped to the ground, actually lifeless this time. 

Then there was a shout from beyond, further down the chasm, another cultist advancing. Leon moved the sights of the rifle smoothly and shot that fucker as well, but as the bullet tore through the skull, the same thing as what had happened to the first happened again. The cranium busted open, tentacles and something like a scorpion’s tale bursting from the mess of flesh and bone, sharp brambles and claws swiping out at Leon like it wanted to make sushi out of him. Leon grimaced, really not liking the looks of the situation he was falling into headfirst, and put another bullet into the mass. At least the rifle was looking like a reliable way to take these things down. The second man dropped to the ground, head gone, dead as he deserved to be. Leon forced himself to breathe easy and moved on. 

“Oh god dammit.”

It really did look like the customary B.O.W. shit, puzzles and mazes included. From what he could tell, this was some complicated shipping station, goods and supplies being sent downriver in crates and to be collected here. That, or people really like the aesthetic of a good bridge system next to a waterfall. Leon grimaced as he surveyed the area and found no hostiles, just annoying steps. The way he needed to go was _behind_ the waterfall, the bruising strength of the waterfall itself acting as a gate. There seemed to be a dam above the waterfall itself with pulley systems leading from levers that Leon could reach, but really, how was this efficient? 

As he moved across the rickety walkways to reach the levers, he wondered just why the fuck someone would put this much effort into getting beneath a waterfall. There was something important, sure, but what if time was of the essence? Kind of like how it was now. As Leon got both the levers and fought down the annoyance that was burning in his chest, he reminded himself to have a word with whoever was behind this hell and find out just where they got off on making shit complicated. 

The water dropping down from the cliff slowed and came to a stop, opening the way for Leon— and a bunch of cultists running out from the cave, pitchforks and axes included, all of them heading for Leon in a funnel on the walkway. As Leon whipped out the shotgun and sent them all into the waters below, he fought down the paranoia of not having someone at his back.

He’d been struggling with the anxiety of that since the beginning of this op, to be fair, after his police escort had been pushed off a cliff by these insane people. After being brought into USSTRATCOM, Leon had forced himself to accept the idea of being alone for a lot of his operations from now on. He was a sole operative with a certain level of experience and training that made him a solo act, simply to cut back on risk and cost, and to centralize reward. If Leon failed and ended up dead as could be, then they’d find someone else, maybe reach out to BSAA, maybe get someone better. As long as they sent people in one at a time, there wasn’t much to lose. 

Still.

Leon— didn’t like being alone. He knew how to do it, he was used to it by now, but the previous knowledge of knowing what it was like to have someone at his back or at his front that he could rely on made it hard to be comfortable with the cards he’d been dealt today. He’d do it alone, he _had_ to do it alone, but he wished he had someone with him. Maybe if Krauser had stuck around, or maybe Chris—

A crack of thunder tore Leon from the unpleasant memories and he suddenly became aware that he was surrounded by bodies and running water, the cave opening waiting expectantly for him, the darkness reaching for him like it knew Leon already had plenty of that emptiness inside of him. Come inside and be accepted, it’s all doom and gloom until the day he dies. Leon grimaced and went into the cave, just glad to be out of the rain for the moment. 

According to Luis Sera, heading this way was supposed to help him find something that would get him to the church, to Ashley Graham, the poor girl that was probably scared out of her mind. It occurred to Leon that she may have contracted the same disease Leon had. He prayed that wasn’t the case. He wasn’t a doctor and was already resigning himself to succumb to the blood that was filling his lungs. If he had to handle a dying President’s daughter on top of a new B.O.W. and his own impending death, he really would be out of his skillset. 

The cave was more of a tunnel, maybe a mine, manmade and littered with candles that set a hilariously overdramatic mood. The end of the tunnel brought him to some fucking complicated door that had a round insignia atop it, the messed up cross that Leon was sure was connected to the cult. As he took it from the door and the door swung up, Leon radioed Hannigan, figuring she could give him something. 

“I’ve obtained an object that resembles the cult group’s insignia,” he told Hannigan once her stern face appeared on the screen. 

_“Wonderful, Leon,”_ she replied with an edge of sarcasm that had Leon feeling a little tired. What would it take for one of these government assholes to realize Leon was human and doing his fucking best, jesus christ. _“Head back to the church. Ashley’s safety is our immediate priority.”_

She ended the transmission and Leon felt like he’d been slapped. Did she really think he didn’t know that? Why would he have told her about the insignia if he didn’t think it would lead to Ashley somehow? Leon scowled and put away the communicator, deciding he wouldn’t look to her for anything more than necessary from now on. He grit his teeth and went through the passage the door had given him, wanting to punch someone when he saw the boat at the end of a dock. “Isn’t one water monster enough per op?” he asked no one, mainly himself, just wanting god to know that Leon was tired of his shit. He dropped into the boat and hated the fog that was limiting his sight in front of him, hating the feeling of heading into the unknown blind. He was grateful as hell when the ride proved to be short and he jumped onto another dock a ways down this cavern river. 

Leon held Rot up as he looked around corners of this waterside shack, distantly thinking this place needed a doleful banjo tune to complete the vibe he was getting. There was blue light from around a wall. Leon whipped around the edge and aimed his sights on—

Oh great, this guy.

“Got something that might interest ya!” the man announced in his vaguely-Australian accent. Leon would give anything to see the man’s face, the purple bandana with the cuts of white through it guarding more than just what this man looked like. For all Leon knew, the most human thing about him could be the eyes. And with the way this village was turning out to be, it wouldn’t surprise Leon to discover this man was as much a weapon as the things he sold, rather than a person. Still— he had a really good selection on him from what Leon had seen. 

Leon ran a hand through his wet hair as he approached this— stall that the strange man was behind, blue flames burning hot, the man holding open his coat. Leon looked him over and decided he was going to give the guy a name. Leon liked to think he was pretty good at naming things— Matilda, Matchelangelo, Rot— and settled on Fish. “Fuck it, Shit Happens.” The man was obviously just as fucked up as the rest of the townspeople, and Leon was pretty sure he’d seen his eyes glow a telling red once, but he couldn’t give a crap if he was dealing with the enemy. Fish had guns and ammo and upgrades and Leon needed all of the above. 

“You got any dry clothes back there?" he asked Fish, pulling on one of his disarmingly boyish smiles. “If these psychos don’t kill me, the pneumonia will.”

Fish might have grinned beneath the bandana, might not have, Leon didn’t know. “Unfortunately, I tend to deal with the nastier side of the business. Extending your life beyond a way to defend yourself with bullets isn’t my forte.”

“Can’t blame a guy for trying.” Leon looked at the back of the stalls, saw the weapons and ammo and bizarre myriad of local items that he honestly couldn’t give a shit about. “You still got the TMP lying around?”

Fish ducked low, reaching into his overcoat, and then whipped the gun out from where it had been hidden with a flourish, raising the weapon to the ceiling like it was a holy relic. “The Steyr TMP,” the man said in his gravelly voice. “Taking custom nine-by-nineteen Parabellum. Stock and M68 Aimpoint sight available for purchase as well. I take it you have a few people you want to take out quickly, eh? Firing from the hip will get a good spray and pray result, but the stock will allow more securing firing and better aim. Regardless, this beauty is the best for when you want the job done fast and _fatally._ ” 

Leon liked this guy’s style. He pulled out the amount for the asking price— distantly wondering when he’d become cool with corpse robbing— and held the TMP with a sort of relief. He loved his Samurai Edge, don’t get him wrong, and the rifle and shotgun were his saving grace, but the satisfaction of an automatic, quick fire weapon was irreplaceable. “You’ve always done me right, Fish,” Leon told the merchant, who cocked his head but didn’t comment on the name. “Maybe I’ll see you again.”

Fish cackled. “Way out’s back there and up the ladder. And, well— I can’t exactly give too much away, but I’d feel bad if I didn’t at least warn ya.” As Fish leaned in to stage whisper conspiratorially, Leon felt the dread settle in despite not even knowing what was coming. “They’ve got their big ace in the hole waiting for ya, if you know what I mean. You took out Del Lago and they’re right pissed ‘bout that. They don’t intend for ya to make it out of this next arena in one piece. But you— you move like a man who knows how to handle this special case of monster. When in doubt…”

Fish trailed off, so Leon finished the sentence. “Aim for the head.”

“Blind ‘em or bash their skull in.” Fish leaned back and held his arms out and up at the ceiling. “You’ll make it out in one piece, Saddler willing. Good luck, kid. Use that gun well.”

Leon forgot himself and told Fish, “Luck’s never saved me,” before leaving, climbing that ladder, climbing stairs, turning through an arch and realizing that Fish had been right. This was a god damn arena. 

A large area about the size of a competitive swimming pool caged in by walls made of shaved tree limbs, impossible to scale, with the back of the arena a sheer cliff face and huge, iron doors settled between jagged rock. It wasn’t raining anymore, but it was still cold, and his instincts were telling him to find somewhere to hide, maybe those odd little shacks that were— boarded up and would take too long to break into, jesus christ, there was nowhere to hide. As he walked calmly towards the center, hating how tall the manmade walls were and how easily someone could be scoping down at him, the gates that he was filing away for escape suddenly dropped shut, locking Leon in. He whipped around, knowing he’d walked right into this, couldn’t blame anyone but his own stupid self, but—

The huge iron doors in the cliff were opened slowly, metal screaming a protest. Villagers backed out, a good ten of them, all men, all of them yanking on thick rope to try and pull something from the darkness. Leon took a step back as the men yanked hard and shouted amongst each other in Castilian, the desperation and fear in their voices making him just as afraid, because whatever they were scared of was something he should be _terrified_ of. Lightning flashed as a roar came from behind the doors, and the rope was torn from the hands of the villagers. The ground shook with what matched the tandem of footsteps, and the villagers stood in frozen horror as _something_ approached. 

Leon heard one village choke out, “Mierda,” before a fist bigger than a person slammed through the iron doors, and a monster the size of a three story house burst out, throwing the doors aside as it threw its arms back and bellowed at the sky. It looked like a troll of some sorts, definitely humanoid despite its terrifying height and strength. Its skin was an ugly gray and stretched across its body like leather, like its skeleton and muscles had grown too quickly for the skin to handle, flesh torn and pulling in an effort to keep everything inside like it was designed to do. As Leon stumbled back further and watched the huge thing barrel into the villagers to crush and throw around their bodies like the giant was a toddler and the people were its least favorite toys, “Mierda” didn’t even seem to come close to covering how bad of a situation this was. Leon was so caught up in the carnage before him, the screams of men dying in droves, that he almost didn’t see the fist swinging his way.

_Almost._

Leon cartwheeled back, the fist missing him narrowly enough for Leon to deny himself any satisfaction for the successful dodge. The creature— _El Gigante_ — peered down at Leon with red, furious eyes, seemingly able to understand that Leon wasn’t like the rest of the canon fodder that had been laid out for it. And that only seemed to piss it off. El Gigante roared its fury down at Leon, enraged that its plaything wasn’t going to cooperate, and lifted a huge leg to bring down on Leon’s head, intending to squash him like an ant. Leon rolled out of the way, skidding through the dirt, still feeling a little numb to what he was facing. What the fuck was this virus? How did it make something like this? It seemed like more an Umbrella level concoction than Los Illuminados, though the size and strength and stupidity weren’t meshing well together. These people had made a bumbling idiot that could kill with one hand and couldn’t be controlled. It was inefficient and unmarketable. It wasn’t cost effective. It wasn’t useful.

_It wasn’t a Tyrant._

Leon pulled the TMP from his waist and fired at the eyes of El Gigante, knowing that taking out the eyes of the beast would be his best bet. Stupid, angry, and blind was the easiest giant to fell. He fired bullet after bullet into the ugly face of this beast, feeling a sick kind of satisfaction when it cried out in pain and swiped uselessly at the air. Leon kept moving, kept falling back and getting space so those arms never quite reached him. The gun vibrated solidly in his grip, an endless rain of death into the skull. El Gigante screamed and brought its hands to its eyes as red blood gushed from the sockets, telling Leon that this thing really had once been human. As the giant stumbled and went down on one knee, Leon kept the TMP up, watching carefully, waiting for a moment to keep going, when—

A disgusting parasite of flesh and writhing muscle broke through the top of El Gigante’s spine and thrashed uselessly in the air, like a worm breaching the soil and realizing it was going to drown in the rain. It had clawed legs and a gaping mouth, looking like a centipede or something that Leon would only ever see in his nightmares. 

It also looked like an easy target.

Leon didn’t hesitate, knowing a weak point when he saw it. He tore his knife from its sheath and sprinted to El Gigante, leaping up the thing’s side to balance atop its huge back and slash at the flaw of the monster, his blade gleaming as lightning flashed. The sickening mass almost seemed to scream with El Gigante, blood falling from it as well. Whatever was inside El Gigante that had turned a human into this monstrosity was its own Achille’s Heel. El Gigante moved beneath Leon’s feet, and he leaped from its back before it could throw him, rolling as he hit the ground and coming up with the TMP again, bullets slamming back into that ugly face and making El Gigante roar in agony again. Leon almost thought he had this fight won. 

Then a crack of lightning that was _far too close_ shook Leon’s focus, and as his stance wavered, El Gigante saw the opportunity and took it, snatching Leon up in its huge fist and lifting Leon into the air, holding Leon up like he was some prize El Gigante had won. The giant leered up at him, like it was deciding if it wanted to kill Leon outright or have some fun before he crushed Leon in his grip. Leon tried to wiggle his arm out, tried to get his knife back in his grip and cut a tendon, but El Gigante _squeezed_ and Leon tasted blood, tasted that disease, tasted himself dying as his bones scraped together and his lungs were constricted. He kicked uselessly, instincts insisting that he wanted to live even as he stopped struggling, darkness encroaching, oh god he really was fucking dying, he needed to get out, needed to run, needed to hide, he needed help, Chris, where are you—

There was a howl, a snarl, and suddenly Leon was dropping nearly twenty feet, hitting the dirt hard, his body protesting being alive for how much everything hurt. But the adrenaline crashed into Leon the very next second and he scrambled to his feet, looking up and seeing—

The dog from before, the dog he’d released from the trap, _the fucking dog had leaped onto El Gigante and dug its teeth into the writhing weak point,_ and now the dog was at the other end of the arena, barking wildly, keeping El Gigante’s attention on him so Leon could get his shit together and _fucking kill this thing._

Leon wiped the blood from his lips and stood tall, firing the TMP at the top of the spine, the quivering flesh that was on display for Leon, thanks to the efforts of the faithful companion he’d never expected to find. As the TMP ran dry, Leon brought out the rifle, moving steadily around the arena, slugging in each round with a grim expression, the pain in his body keeping him steady. El Gigante screamed with each shot, but every time it tried to turn and face Leon, the dog would pounce and get its teeth in that gray flesh, wresting El Gigante’s attention. El Gigante began to slow, his roars becoming weak moans, the flaw in its design thrashing weakly. The dog finally bounded to Leon’s side, howling ferociously to the thunderous sky as Leon took one last aim at the giant’s spine and heaving a breath as it finally— fucking finally— went down, crashing into the dirt with a weight that shook the ground beneath Leon’s feet. 

As the gates opened back up around him, on some sort of trigger release, Leon breathed a sigh of relief and turned to find the dog, but— the dog was gone.

Fine.

Leon refused to let himself be hurt by the absence of the animal, telling himself he should be used to no one and nothing sticking around him longer than was necessary. He should just be grateful the mutt had shown up to save his ass. Who cared if the dog left? It was t Leon’s responsibility and he had a job to do. Some dog didn’t fucking matter. 

Except— Leon had always wanted a dog as a kid. A loyal companion that would keep him safe, jowls ready to sink into the flesh of the people Leon feared. Leon knew it wasn’t feasible or practical to get a dog with the way his life was now, but that dog had cared about him to an extent, and he had so few people who cared, why couldn’t he have one good thing—

Focus, Kennedy.

Leon had to get back to the church, he was pretty sure the insignia he’d picked up was his key to getting inside. He booked it out of the arena, moving across the scaffolding that made his stomach drop. Leon wasn’t afraid of heights, but his faith in the engineering of these people wasn’t exactly sound either. The graveyard was just ahead and Leon heard a howl, wondered if it was the dog, wondered if he hadn’t been abandoned by yet another companion, until—

Out of the rain that was falling steadily again, Leon saw glowing red eyes watching him from hunched forms. 

Well, infected animals it was.

Leon told himself he didn’t feel like shit as he brought the rifle around again and took out the wolves from a safe distance, not wanting to meet his end ironically in a graveyard just because he was attached to a mutt that had decided Leon was worth the risk of its own life. Still— each yelp from each dog he put down was like a knife in his own chest. He reminded himself why he was doing this and why he shouldn’t care. Ashley Graham was his top priority. President Graham expected results from Leon, not feelings or regret. Get the girl and get out.

Leon killed all of the dogs and didn’t look at the bodies. 

He strode to the church door and pushed the insignia into the hole, letting himself feel good about _something_ when he heard a mechanism inside turn over and the door unlock itself. 

The church was as gaudy and over-the-top as Leon had suspected it would be. Stone walls and flooring and a peaked ceiling, a few pews facing an alter, red satin decorating the walls with the insignia plastered everywhere his eyes landed. There was an iron gate to the right but he saw no way of opening it. Chandeliers hung from the ceiling and framed a stained glass fixture at the far end of the church, three circles of erratically combined primary colors that framed _yet another insignia_ of the Los Iluminados cult. 

“Talk about a god complex,” Leon muttered to himself as he moved down the aisle to check out the alter, finding that symbol again in the form of wrought iron, wondering if it was from a specific religion of this region. There were candles spaced out around him, giving an ominous glow to the already-foreboding church. “Never did like organized religion,”he grumbled before finding a way to the upper level of the church, seeing no other way to move forward than up when the iron gates were shut. He found a ladder and climbed up, noticing an odd mechanism across the gap of the church. The walkway of the second level didn’t seem to reach all the way around, but—

Leon took a running jump and landed on the huge chandelier, letting momentum swing the contraption and jumped again, landing gracefully on the other side. He approached the mechanism, saw that it was some sort of puzzle of the light, shards of red, green, and blue that he needed to line up with the ugly “art” of the stained glass beyond. A few twists and the lights were matching up and joining together, the insignia in the center shining brightly before the sound of the gate opening below blessed Leon’s ears. He was about to head back down when he saw a smaller door on this level, brown and rusted. Leon frowned and pulled up Rot, resting his hand on the doorknob and taking a moment to breathe before slowly pushing the door open and moving inside.

In front of him, a figure darted past, blonde hair trailing behind a girl, behind—

“Ashley,” Leon said, eyes going wide as he lowered his gun.

The president’s daughter held up a huge plank of wood, surprisingly Leon with her fight, and yelled, “Don’t come!”before throwing the thing a him.

“Hey!” Leon snapped as he easily stepped out of the way of the projectile. “Take it easy!” He moved towards her, wondering if he would have to tie the squirrelly girl down when she ran from him again, crouching in a corner, shouting for him to get away.

“Calm down,” Leon ordered, holding his arms out at his sides to show there was nothing on him before putting Rot away. “Everything’s going to be just fine.” He went to where she was curled up on the ground, her young face turned away with eyes screwed shut like she thought if she couldn’t see him, he couldn’t see her. “My name’s Leon,” he told her. “I’m under the president’s order to rescue you.”

Her eyes flew open. “What?” She shot up quickly, looking to him with hope. “My father?”

“That’s right,” Leon affirmed with a small smile, wanting her to like him, wanting her to trust him and know he meant her no harm. “And I have to get you out of here. Now come with me.” She stood with him and Leon thanked whoever was up there that she at least knew how to listen to instructions. He led her back to the door and pulled out his communicator, buzzing Hannigan. 

“It’s Leon,” he told the grainy image. “I’ve succeeded in extricating my subject.”

 _“Good work, Leon,”_ she said. _“I’ll send a chopper over right away.”_

“Where’s the extraction point?”

_“There’s another trail that you can take to get out of the village. The chopper will pick you up beyond there.”_

Leon grimaced, not liking the vague answer. “Got it,”he said regardless. “I’m on my way.” He ended the transmission and looked to Ashley, who was watching him with her huge eyes. “That was my handler,” he told her, feeling like it would be best to use transparency, really let her trust him because she felt she could rather than just because she had to. “We’re heading out of the village to a helicopter that’ll pick us up and take us back to civilization. From there, it’s an eight hour flight and then you’re home again, safe and sound.”

Ashley nodded and smiled shakily back. “First thing I’m gonna do is get a cheeseburger and nap for days.”

“That’s the spirit,” Leon said, glad she was able to think about the future so positively. Los Illuminados may have taken her from her home, but they hadn’t taken her strong will. “I’m gonna need you to listen to me,” he then told her. “If I tell you to wait or follow or hide, you do so immediately. We’re not dealing with regular run-of-the-mill terrorists here. These people aren’t human anymore. I know what I’m doing— I’ve seen things like this before. If we’re gonna make it out of here alive, I need you to trust me and do as I say right when I say it.”

“Okay,” Ashley said with a firm nod. “I— I trust you, Leon.”

Leon returned the nod before leading her out of that dark room and back into the main church, dropping down the ladder and— _”shit!”_ — barely catching Ashley as she immediately jumped down right after him. “Couldn’t have climbed down?” he asked, holding her weight easily. The girl was stick thin and probably hadn’t been given a good meal in a while, just like him. 

“It’s faster if I jump,” she told him like he was stupid for not realizing the same. She slid out of Leon’s grip and dusted off her skirt. “I’m not that heavy!”

Leon didn’t know this girl well enough to fight fire with fire. He just moved past her while tampering down a smirk at her childishness and went for the main doors of the church, intending to get them both out of here without delay. He was at the aisle, Ashley right behind, feeling pretty optimistic, when a deep, almost sensual voice filled the room and had Leon stopping in his tracks.

“I’ll take the girl,” said a man in a sweeping purple cloak and a Lovecraft-esque staff of bone, twisting flesh and, writhing eyeballs, standing beside the alter.

Leon scowled, honestly tired of these Halloween costumed freaks. “Who are you?” he demanded, putting an arm back to keep Ashley behind him.

“If you must know,” the man drawled as he faced Leon, letting him see the golden Los Illuminados cult insignia that was hanging from his neck. “My name is Osman Saddler.” He stared down at Leon with dead eyes, his wrinkled face revolting in a way that reminded Leon of evil people, of decayed bodies still walking, of Birkin when his body had succumbed to his own virus. “The master of this fine religious… community.”

Fuck this creep.

“What do you want?”

“To demonstrate to the whole world our astounding power, of course,” Saddler replied like it was obvious. “No longer will the United States think that they can police the world forever. So we kidnapped the President’s daughter in order to give her our power.” Ashley whimpered and took a step behind Leon, who faced Saddler fully, his body between this psychopath and his charge. “And then.. send her back.”

Ashley took a step back and whispered, “No.”When Leon looked back to her, he saw she was holding her hand to her pulse below her jaw. “Leon,” she said. “I think they shot something into my neck!”

Leon rounded on Saddler with rage, gritting out, “What did you do to her?”

Saddler stepped down from the alter. “We just planted her a little… gift.”He grinned wide, the awful split of his lips making Leon skin crawl. “Oh, there’s going to be one hell of a party when she returns home to her loving father!”He threw his head back and laughed sharply to the ceiling, then snapped his gaze back down with a terse, “But— before that. I thought I might bargain with the president for some donations. Believe it or not, it takes quite a lot of money to keep this church up and running.”

Leon snorted a laugh, knowing psychos like this man better than himself. “Faith in money will lead you nowhere, Saddler,” he said, thinking of Umbrella and all the other monsters that had ruined countless lives and their own futures just for the prospect of a profit.

Saddler ignored him. “Oh, I believe I forgot to tell you that we gave you the same gift, American.”

Leon—

The disease.

“When I was unconscious,” he said to himself, sliding the pieces together. He wasn’t sick— he was infected. 

Oh god, he was infected. 

“Oh, I truly hope you like our small but special contribution,” Saddler purred, forcing Leon to look to him again, shelving away the idea of being infected and how it made Leon feel cold all over. “When the eggs hatch, you will become my puppet. Involuntarily, you will do as I say. _I will have total control over your mind._ Don’t you think this is a revolutionary way to promulgate one’s faith?”

Leon swallowed past the lump in his throat to snap, “Sounds more like an alien invasion if you ask me!” Invasion of the Body Snatchers, kicking and screaming. His neck itched, a phantom pain he knew was part of his overloading nerves, the knowledge of something being in his body, a foreign entity, a parasite. He wanted to take Krauser’s knife to his own flesh and cut it out. Oh god, he was going to die to this, surviving infection in Raccoon and South America had been useless, he was going to die at the hands of this _sick freak_ —

The church doors behind them burst open, men in black robes with crossbows aiming their sights down at him and Ashley. Saddler smirked. Leon saw the intent. He grabbed Ashley’s hand and yanked her after him, running to the window, knowing escape was their only option. There was a _twang,_ and the flaming arrows barely missed Ashley, the scorch of heat not helping the invasive cold in Leon’s bones. He pulled Ashley forward almost violently and they crashed through the church window in unison, glass shattering and sparkling around them like drops of water before clattering to the ground along with him and Ashley. Leon rolled with his landing, but Ashley slammed into the stone hard. 

“You okay?” Leon asked, going to her side immediately, helping the girl to her feet.

The rain drenched her unapologetically as she looked to him and asked, “Leon, what’s going to happen to us?”

“Don’t worry,” Leon said with a confidence he didn’t feel. “We got into this mess— we can get out of it. For now, we have to run.”

He led her through the rain, away from the church and down a new path, hopefully the one Hannigan had been talking about. Cult fuckers got in his way, nasty men and women that he put down with ruthless shots to the head, relieved when Ashley didn’t ask about his unrepentant murder of the locals. She only stayed right behind him and ducked low when he had to kick a fucker’s head in, needing to save bullets. 

As he fought through the madness, his thoughts became a turmoil of panic and fury, part of him sickened by the inhuman Schadenfreudiger that was Lord Saddler, another part trembling with the fear of death, of succumbing to the very thing that was turning the villagers of this place into insane murders that burned people at stakes and pinned their women to the walls like art, and the last part—

The last part thought of a man, a man Leon told himself he hated. 

He didn’t let that last part of himself come to the surface very often and definitely not for long. Leon grit his teeth and shot an infected woman through the eye, putting her down for good and pretending her face was someone else. Then he shoved himself back into his mission like he always did and lied to himself, saying that once he made it home, he’d take Sherry to dinner. 

The lie fell a little more flat than normal this time. 

The path led to a small stone structure that had an opening in the floor, which then led down into a tunnel below. “Let’s get out of this bad weather,” he told Ashley before dropping down first and—

Blue flames.

Thank god.

“Told you we’d meet again,” Leon said to Fish as Ashley joined him down here. The merchant laughed but didn’t respond, not even looking at Ashley. He obviously didn’t care about the same things as those around him. If he was infected with whatever was inside these people, then why wasn’t he succumbing to the same mind-controlling effects Saddler boasted to have? “You’re a weird one,” Leon said with no bite as the merchant whipped back his coat and let Leon survey the goods. 

Oh fuck yeah.

“What do you want for the Mauser C96?”

Fish cackled again. “Seeing as you’re my favorite customer, I’ll be offering you a hell of a bargain today.”

“Thanks,” Leon said as he handed over the funds and let the Mauser rest comfortably in his grip. “That TMP was great, but ammo for that thing is impossible to find. Who uses customs for a thing like that?”

“People in places like you can’t afford to be picky,” Fish reminded him. “Just count yourself lucky I’ve got such an easy way around this place. And by the by, you should know— player three is entering the game.”

Leon frowned. “Who?”

“Don’t really know myself,” Fish admitted. “But rumor has it there’s another fighter such as yourself that’s sticking their nose into places they don’t belong. Not sure whose side they’re on yet, but I guess we’ll figure that out only when they want us to, yeah? It ain’t like we’ve got much of a choice but to accept the lumps we’re given and praise our generous god.”

“I don’t do subjugation,” Leon replied bitterly. “Whoever it is better not get in my way. I’m getting out of this place with Ashley, and that's final.”

“Something tells me her rescue was all part of the plan,” Fish said slowly. “And I’m not talking about _your_ plan.”

It made sense. Saddler had said they had intended to send Ashley back, but there really wasn’t anything else Leon could do. Maybe back in the states they’d find a way to save her from whatever was in her body. Leon wasn’t a genius biochemist like Rebecca who could create a vaccine from banana peals and positive thoughts. He wasn’t a doctor. He couldn’t do anything for her except get her to people who could give her a fighting chance. They wouldn’t put down the president’s daughter, but Leon— well, Leon had already resigned himself to a future as a lab rat if the infection didn’t kill him first. Leon was expendable. He was as good as dead whether he succeeded or not.

“My plan is the one that matters because my plan is the one that’s gonna work,” Leon said stubbornly, not missing the red flash of Fish’s eyes. He didn’t care if he was coming off as a stubborn kid, he wasn’t about to let the President’s daughter be turned into some terrorist time bomb just for the sake of getting revenge on an entire country. One innocent kid shouldn’t be held responsible for the acts of many, in Leon’s opinion, and everyone should be held accountable for the slightest involvement. Pretty preachy, but it was the only thing that made sense to him anymore. “I’m not gonna say I’ll see you again, Fish, because I’m trying to be a little more optimistic about these things. And hey— piece of advice?” When Fish cocked his head and waited, Leon lowered his voice and told him, “Get the hell out of this place while you still can.”

Fish paused. Then he threw his head back and laughed. “There’s not many places for me to go, Leon!” he bellowed, and Leon wondered when he’d told this guy his name. “Sorry, kid, business is booming as long as you’re around. After that, then who knows? But all that normal shit, all that society— that ain’t meant for someone like myself anymore. Don’t worry about an old man like me.”

Leon scowled. “So you’re giving up?”

“I’m accepting the hand I’ve been dealt,” Fish replied with a shrug. “Something I’m sure you’re very used to in your own way.” When Leon’s scowl morphed into a grim line of understanding, Fish waved him off. “Go tuck your tail and run while ya can. I have a feeling I won’t be seeing the last of ya.” He looked to Ashley and tipped the brim of an invisible hat. “Safe travels, my dear.” Then Fish swept his coat back around his person and Leon took that as the cue, taking Ashley by the crook of her elbow to beckon her along. 

The mines continued, Leon moving around the corners with extra care now that he was so close to this whole thing being over. Most car accidents happened within five miles of home, right? Most fuck ups reared their ugly heads right at the end of a fight, when heads were lagging and focus was shot in the prospect of going home. Leon couldn’t afford to mess things up here, not when he was so close. The tunnel brought them up a ladder and into the small room of the secret passage, Leon relieved to be in familiar territory. But as he crept silently from the small room, back into the town square of the village, back into the pouring rain, the relief died away when a man shouted their arrival, the Castilian still foreign, but familiar in its own way too. “Stay behind me,” he told Ashley before bringing up the new gun and grinning at the muzzle flash, the satisfying kick, the scream as the man went down. Leon kept the sights up, wary for anyone else coming, but he could barely see through the fog that had overcome the village and swallowed up the fires themselves.

He kept his steps light and slow, sticking to the buildings, eyes darting around, painfully alert. Ashley was a heavy presence at his back, and everyone one of her clumsy steps had Leon’s heart racing with terrible what-ifs and dangerous ideas. Why couldn’t she be any quieter? Why did she have those stupid boots on? Why couldn’t she just—

Leon shook himself just barely, told himself that she was just a kid and he wasn’t being fair. It didn’t matter if she was shit at stealth— it was Leon’s job to make sure her inexperience didn’t get her killed. 

“Follow me,” he whispered as they slinked through the village, keeping out of sight of anything. There were moving torches, but Leon was sure that they could get past these assholes without raising anymore hell. He didn’t want Ashley in the middle of a firefight— neither of them were bullet proof. “The path is… that way.” If Leon ever made it back to the states, he was going to have a discussion with his handler about her vagueness. Leon could handle coordinates, he could handle landmarks, but just saying the path was somewhere? There were so many fucking paths. 

“Guess the only way to go is the way I haven’t been,” Leon whispered to himself as he looked between a set of houses he’d never bothered to explore and headed in that direction, crouching low to avoid anyone seeing them through a window. Ashley followed suit, murmuring something, asking a question, so Leon put up a hand, silently ordering her to shut up. 

There was a whisper of cloth in front of them, a woman stalking past with her teeth barred like a dog, holding a torch above her head, searching for them. Leon pressed his back to the wall and put an arm back to make sure Ashley did the same, pinning her to the wood. His own pulse was pounding in his ears as the woman stalked past them, blind in the fog like they nearly were, her eyes sweeping across but never landing on them. She passed and Leon let out a gust of air, getting back up and puling Ashley along. They reached a tall gate, infuriatingly locked, and Leon really didn’t want to double back for a key, but they didn’t have much of a choice. He was about to turn and tell Ashley the bad news when she strode forward and looked to Leon expectantly. 

“If you boost me up, I can probably open it from the other side,” she told him, and—

Fucking alright, he could do that. Leon braced himself on the gate itself, down on his knees, not making a sound as Ashely climbed atop his back, onto his shoulders, and he stood. Maybe she did weigh a little more than he’d expected, but he could take it. The weight disappears seconds later, and he heard Ashley drop down at the other side. The sound of metal and wood and then Ashley saying, “I opened it, Leon!”

“Atta girl,” he whispered, hoping she didn’t hear because she probably didn’t want to be patronized, but what a fucking trooper. He was reminded distantly of Sherry, of the bravery she’d shown those two weeks on the run with him, before they’d been taken in and separated. Sherry had always kept her chin up and always listened to him and always, _always_ offered to help. And even then, those weren’t the moments that stuck out to Leon. 

What he remembered the most vividly was one night in some random motel room in the middle of an autumn thunderstorm, when Sherry had told him how she’d always wanted to take dancing classes. Leon had found a radio station with something slow playing and had placed the little girl on his toes to lead her slowly around the room, showing her the steps he barely knew himself and promising he’d get her real lessons one day. But instead of saying that he better keep the promise, she’d pushed her small face into his stomach, pulled her hands from his to wrap her arms around his waist, and told him “Thank you” in a tiny whisper that still rang in his ears today. 

“Leon?”

Leon broke from the memory and pushed through the gate, giving Ashley a thumbs up because he suddenly didn’t trust his own voice. He kept them both moving, running from the village and the things Leon couldn’t escape. 

A huge bridge swung before them over a deep chasm, sturdily made but still not a comfort to have to cross. As Leon went first just to ensure that if the ropes gave way, he’d be the one to make the drop, his communicator buzzed. Leon answered with half his attention on Hannigan, mainly focused on not losing his foot and plummeting to his death. 

_“Leon— I have some bad news.”_

God—

“I’d rather not hear it,” Leon mumbled as he watched at where he foot his feet but not looking any further between the planks of wood that showed him the fatal drop below.

 _“Well, I’m afraid I have to tell you anyway.”_ At least she sounded sorry for it. _“We’ve lost contact with the chopper. Someone must have shot it down, though we can’t determine who.”_

Leon tore his eyes from his feet for a second, had to look up at the sky, a horrible pain shooting through his chest. Those soldiers— those men. They’d only been doing their fucking jobs, they’d only been trying to help Ashley, and they’d been shot down like birds in the sky during hunting season. Leon blinked furiously at the emotions warring for attention inside of him, the ache of the loss meeting the fear of the infection in his blood and the anxiety of how in the hell he was going to get Ashley home. 

“Great,” Leon choked out after he’d gotten a handle on himself. 

_“We’re prepping another chopper for you,”_ Hannigan rushed on to say, not even sparing a moment for the fallen soldiers. _“Meanwhile, I want you to head towards the extraction point.”_

Now that, Leon could do. “Got it,” he said before ending the transmission, crossing the bridge completely and waving for Ashley to join him. She made it across the bridge with a lot more confidence than him, probably figuring that if Leon hadn’t broken the thing, then neither could she. “That was Hannigan,” he told Ashley before she could ask, her eyes on Leon’s hand as he tucked the communicator away again. “The chopper got shot down.”

Ashley’s brow knit with concern. “Are the men okay?”

Leon—

He blinked twice, slowly working through her question, a little stunned by the worry in her voice. He almost wished he could lie and tell her that the men were fine, they’d be evac’d, they’d be taken to a hospital, but—

“They’re gone,” he told her gently, letting the pain he was still feeling from the loss show in his voice so at least she would know she wasn’t alone in her mourning. “They— it was quick.” At least, Leon hoped it had been. “We’re getting another one, but I have a— a bad feeling.” And he had pretty good luck with his bad feelings. 

As they stepped onto solid ground again, the bad feeling proved to be pretty timely— there was a cry in the air, that fucking Castilian, and the glow of fire from both directions that they had, from ahead, and from the bridge. Ashley gasped and inched closer to him, clinging to his arm. “What’re we gonna do, Leon?” she whimpered. 

“Hate to say it, but we’re sandwiched alright,” Leon griped, looking around for somewhere to hide. A lone cabin was in the center of the two mobs that were closing in on them. It wasn’t ideal, but it was the house or a swan dive. “In that cabin!” he ordered sharply, running to the metal door and kicking it open, checking the area, finding no one, the yanking Ashley inside and shutting the door with his back. There were hooks to hold something to bar the door shut, but—

“Leon!”

The male voice had Leon looking up in time to catch the plank of wood being thrown for him. He slid it into the hooks and effectively barred the door shut. 

Luis Sera walked out from a far corner and and smiled enigmatically at him. “Small world, eh?” Leon grinned a little, relived to have what few allies he did in this fight. Luis strode forward, casual despite the threat of death, and looked keenly to Ashley. “And… I see that the president has equipped his daughter with ballistics.”

Leon stifled a laugh as Ashley made a noise of sharp indignation. “How rude!” she snapped. “And I don’t believe there’s any relevance with my figure and my standing! Who are you?!”

As Leon rounded the room, checking windows and exits and entrances, Luis chuckled and held his hands up in surrender. “Excuse me, your highness,” he drawled. “Perhaps the young lady might want to introduce herself first before asking someone his name.”

“Name’s Ashley Graham,” Ashley grumbled. “The President’s daughter?”She said the last part like she thought everyone should know who she was by name alone. Tough luck, Ashley, not everyone follows the United States with vapid adoration. Leon personally couldn’t have named the First Lady of the last president if he tried, let alone the children.

Luis looked over his shoulder to Leon, asking slowly, “Is she… well, you know.”

Leon wasn’t sure what he was asking about— infection, trustworthiness, usefulness— but: “Don’t worry. She’s cool.”

“Eh, never mind,” Luis sighed. “To be honest, the feminine figure can be arresting, but there’s nothing like the solid stance of a strong man.” His eyes dragged back to Leon and raked up and down. Leon just arched a brow, a little surprised at this turn of events, but not actually surprised at all. He knew what he looked like. “Anyways,” Luis said as he crossed his arms over his chest again and moved towards the tiny kitchen that was near the door once he saw Leon wasn’t going to react. “There’s supposed to be some kind of obvious symptom before you turn into one of them anyway.”

Ashley suddenly gasped, pointing to one of the windows. “Look!”

Between the planks barring the window shut, the glow of fire could be seen. The mob was approaching, a lot murmur of violent insanity reaching Leon’s ears. God, there were so many of them, more than Leon could guess at. “Ashley, upstairs!” The girl ran off as Leon and Luis went to stand at the window, Luis pulling out a Mauser of his own. Their eyes met and something painful struck a chord in Leon’s chest, the twin heartbeat of two men facing down death and promising to look after the other, even if neither said it out loud. 

Leon swallowed past the lump in his throat. “It’s game time,” Luis said. Leon prayed he wouldn’t have to see this man die. 

The mob burst through seconds later, tearing through the door and the planks like they were made of paper. Luis and Leon went back to back, heading for the stairs, gaining the high ground and—

It felt like a slaughterhouse. 

Just villager after villager climbing the stairs into a funnel of death, put down by the steady shots from Luis and Leon, an endless cacophony of bullets, each shot making Leon jump harder and harder. There was no way for these people to reach them, they had no fighting chance, this was inhumane, this was putting down cattle and Leon was a mass murderer. Luis was steady beside him, his shoulder pressed to Leon’s, the warmth of his living body being the only thing keep Leon sane as he slugged his bullets into human faces that he told himself were false. The villages were infected and they wanted him dead, he had to put them down, he had a mission, he needed to survive, but did he deserve to? Did he deserve life anymore than these people? He was infected, he was a dead man walking, how could he take so many lives when his was already over, he should die quietly, he shouldn’t be killing with reckless abandon, _he was a monster._

Each bullet that left Leon’s gun felt like another reason for his death, each life he took making his worth less and less. What if these people could be helped? What if there was a cure? What if Leon was truly the monster here? The gun was jerking in his hands and his arms were numb, his eyes seeing nothing but the spray of red blood, moans ringing in his ears, decayed skin and empty irises, a giant in a black coat that smelled like cigarettes, a warmth beside him, a voice in his ear, hands holding him close and telling him—

“Leon!”

Leon crashed back into reality and became dully aware of the click of his empty gun each time he pulled the trigger, a steady beat of nothing, a damning blow to his credibility as a soldier if he couldn’t keep his wits about him in a fight. Leon was just lucky everything was dead. The corpses piled in front of them—

“Leon,” Luis repeated gently, watching him with concern. “Are you alright?”

Leon opened his mouth to lie and say he was fine, but blood came out instead of words, and Leon buckled over, coughing into his glove, tasting iron in the back of his throat. Hands went to his shoulders and pushed him up, a soothing accent telling him to straighten out so his lungs could catch up. Luis pressed Leon against the wall at the top of the stairs, holding him up. Leon shook in the man’s grip as the blood kept coming, drowning him, and he hoped he wasn’t getting any of it on Luis’s rather expensive looking clothes. The coughing fit finally subsided and Leon slumped, head lolling back against the wall behind him.

“That didn’t sound good, friend.”

Luis’s voice was a low murmur and very, _very_ close. Leon opened his eyes and saw the other man was near enough to kiss, just a tilt of his head would push their lips together. Leon’s instincts were telling him to do it because what else did he have to lose? Then his brain got the better of him, responding to the internal question with _a lot._ His last night with Krauser, when he’d been pulled apart and left that way, naked and trembling in the sheets, reeling from dying only moments before. Leon wasn’t going to make the same mistake twice. “I’m fine,” he said, standing on his own and refusing to let Luis see another moment of weakness. But— “I don’t know— I’m sorry. For losing it back there. You should’ve been able to rely on me.”

Luis shook his head. “Guess I should swallow down my ego and admit you made most of the killing shots. Where’d you learn to shoot like that?”

“Raccoon City,” Leon replied thoughtlessly.

“Ah,” Luis hummed. “The tragic backstory from before. I’d love to hear it in full, one day.”

That last time Leon had told someone that story, they’d used him up and left him at the roadside to shrivel into nothing. “Sure,” he told Luis anyways. “I’ll buy you a beer.”

“None of that American piss, right?” Luis grinned, and Leon tried to return the smile. “C’mon, _camarada._ What do we do now?”

Leon looked up to the second level where Ashley was standing, young eyes so full of fright. Apparently Leon was the one in charge, even over Sera. That was fine. He could handle it. “The bridge I crossed to get here is out,” Leon said, thinking aloud. “So I guess we have no choice but to keep moving.”

Luis was quiet. Then, “I forgot something.” He tucked his gun away and headed for the door. “You guys go on ahead.”

That—

What?

“Luis,” Leon called out, following him, but the man was already gone, heading into the rain in the other direction. Leon— did not let that hurt either. The connection of fighting for his life at Luis’s side was gone. He needed to stop getting so attached so fucking easily before it killed him. Leon glanced over the cabin one last time since they were about to leave and— saw a note.

Leon snatched it up, reading it over quickly. Americans, Ganados, El Gigante again, a man’s sight opening the gate that would get them out of the village. He had a name for the villagers and a clue as to what was coming and where to go. It seemed like these people really were willing to give it all to keep Ashley from leaving, and they definitely wanted him dead now, same blood or not. He grimaced and crumbled up the note. “They’re not giving up,” he told Ashley. “We gotta move fast. If we can beat them to wherever this gate is, maybe we won’t have to deal with the worst of it.” 

“Lead the way, Leon,” she replied, watching him carefully. Leon wondered if she’d seen his little— loss of self. Hopefully not, considering seeing someone at that low of a point would definitely breed distrust. Jesus Christ, why couldn’t he have just kept it together a second longer? The villagers— Ganados. The Ganados were trying to kill him, he’d had no choice but to kill them because he wasn’t allowed to die until Ashley was safe. He shouldn’t have lost himself like that. Leon was just doing his fucking job.

“Let’s move,” Leon ordered. They both ducked back out into the rain, Ashley making a small noise of protest at the cold. If the world could just cut them some fucking slack, Leon would greatly appreciate it. He led Ashley down the path opposite of the bridge they’d crossed, found some odd mechanism that allowed him to unlock either a left or right door. Leon grimaced, glanced back to Ashley, wished he wasn’t flying blind. He almost wanted to ask her opinion, but— Leon turned the level and opened the door on the right. According to the note, this was the side that would give him another Gigante to kill. It would be safer to face one monster rather than a horde of Ganados with Ashley at his side. 

The wooden door opened into a huge chasm that made Leon mourn the ecosystem of this part of the country. All of these mines and manmade gouges in the rocks, like fatal wounds in the surface of the earth. He wondered if even managing to find a map would help him navigate this place— so much had changed in such a short amount of time thanks to this godforsaken cult that Leon was sure this place was no longer recognizable by any cartographer. 

“This doesn’t seem safe,” Ashley said. “What if there’s—”

A roar drowned out the rest of her question, and Leon fought the urge to stomp like a child as El Gigante’s evil twin or what the fuck ever dropped down from the cliff face, twice as mad and three times as ugly. Ashley shrieked, nearly falling on her butt as the ground shook beneath the weight of El Gigante. 

“You’re looking to join your brother?” Leon asked, still shaky and not himself from what had happened in the cabin. He needed this fight over quick so he could get Ashley out of here and fall apart peacefully behind a locked door. His grip on Rot was clammy and he searched the area for anything that could cut this short, anything he could use, any—

Leon had the gun up and firing before he even knew what he was firing at, but his instincts had never let him down before. The planks of wood that had kept the boulder at the top of the left cliff from falling were blown into splinters by his bullets, and boulder itself teetering forward and dropping atop El Gigante, crushing the skull and snapping the spine with a dull sound. El Gigante hit the dirt before Leon could even feel the rush of adrenaline for the fight. 

“Oh,” Ashley said, cutting herself off mid-scream. “That— was cool.”

“Always look around for things that can be used in your environment,” Leon told her as he took Ashley by the hand and pulled her along, feet slapping in the mud. “Whether it be a can of flammable chemicals or a chandelier to drop on their heads or even calculating a dive off a roof. There’s always more than one option to get something done, even when it comes down to surviving.”

“You should give me a gun.”

“Yeah, that’s— not happening.”

Ashley shrugged as they jogged. “It’s an option.”

Leon was way too strung out to deal with this level of sass from a blond that wasn’t himself. 

The way out of the chasm led up towards a tall gate that had to be the gate in reference from the note. Leon grimaced, wondering just where the hell he was supposed to find the Big Cheese’s sight, and how he was supposed to use it. There didn’t seem to be a retinal scan of any kind considering how low-tech this place was. There was the metalwork of a man or woman’s face, he honestly couldn’t tell, with light shining from an eye socket, but he had no idea what that could mean. Should he find the dude and cut off his head, offering it to the face here that looked a little like Medusa? Leon wasn’t sure. Regardless, “Hide here,” he ordered to Ashley. There was only one other way to go from here, a pathway that led down to a barn in the middle of barren land. Leon had done this enough to know exactly what he was about to walk into. “Don’t come out unless it’s for me. If I’m not back within thirty minutes, assume I’m dead.”

“W-what?” Ashley’s voice shook and Leon felt sorry for her again. “Wait, you can’t die! There’s no way I’ll make it without you!”

“Then I guess I better not mess this up, huh?” Leon sent her a grin that he hoped she didn’t realize was fake before jerking his head to a pile of crates and old supplies. “I mean it— hide. I need to handle some shit or else neither of us are getting out of here.”

She looked ready to stomp her feet. “At least give me a gun.”

Leon arched his brow. Then he slid out Krauser’s knife and held it out to her. “Don’t you put a scratch on that,” he threatened.

“Shouldn’t you be worried about me, not the knife?”

Leon didn’t answer her, only jerked his head towards the cargo and then sets his sights on the barn, knowing she’d listen to him one way or the other. As he approached the structure, Leon quickly went through everything he knew about the village elder or bodyguard or priest or whatever he was.

Bitores Mendez, a scary motherfucker with huge hands and heterochromia, strong enough to lift Leon in the air like he weighed nothing, with no weakness to melee combat that Leon could tell. His gut was telling Leon he was about to face down that terrifying man and put an end to their confrontations that always ended with Leon worse off. The last time Leon should have died, if it weren’t for the woman in red who had landed a precious shot that had saved Leon’s life. And Leon didn’t know who that had been either, though his brain was insisting he did, even if it couldn’t give him her name. Leon wasn’t really in the habit of making friends these days. There wasn’t anyone that came to mind that would also be in a place like this wearing a dress like that, except—

No way. She’d plummeted to her death back in Raccoon City six years ago. It was just a coincidence. 

Leon shook the thought from his head even as his gut told him not to let it go. The dead coming back to life was the least impossible scenario in his life. Wesker had made an untimely return from the dead, something that the BSAA was dealing with. Why couldn’t she?

Leon approached the barn cautiously, pushing open the huge doors and cringing at the squeak of rusted hinges. Whatever was in here would hear him coming despite his best efforts. The interior of the barn was less cattle and more stockpile. Boxes and equipment and machinery, useless things that just created blind spots. There was a ladder at the far end that led up to a second level and the high beams above supporting the height of the barn. Leon saw nothing, no hostiles, not much else except clutter. He ran over his ammo— five shots for the rifle, eight for the shotgun, seven for the Mauser, three for Rot— and kept his eyes pealed for movement. The more he saw nothing, the more anxious he became.

Then he felt it. 

Hot breath on his neck, possibly human, possibly animal, _definitely hostile._

Leon didn’t want to turn around.

_Eyes up, Kennedy._

Leon whirled around and brought the Mauser up to Mendez’s chest, but the hand closing around his wrist and the other going around his throat and hoisting him into the air cut all sensible thought from Leon, the struggle to breathe being the only thing left. Below, Mendez growled, eyeing Leon like he was a fish in a tank. Leon struggled helplessly, his eyes rolling into the back of his head, his trachea too abused to be able to take this much longer.

Mendez sneered. Then he threw Leon like a ragdoll, Leon’s back colliding with a high beam, his head smacking the wood before he dropped back to the floor, stunned. As Leon struggled to get back to his feat, Mendez turned to the barn door and twisted the steel handles into a pretzel, locking Leon in with this lunatic. Mendez turned back to him, stalking closer as Leon struggled to sit upright, something wrong with his head. Mendez stood above him, tall and terrifying, looking everything like the Tyrant for a split second that shot ice cold clarity through Leon in the form of fear. 

The fist Mendez swung at Leon came slowly enough for Leon to dodge. He pushed off from the ground and rolled away, looking around for anything he could use, because brute force wasn’t going to work. A red barrel caught his eye and he knocked it over with a swift kick, praying the liquid that sloshed to the ground from the overturned barrel was flammable. It pooled at Mendez’s feet, the man staring down like he didn’t understand. Then he looked up at Leon with another growl as Leon brought up the Mauser and aimed for the man’s feet. “Hasta Luego,” he quipped, before firing one of seven bullets and rejoicing inwardly when the pool burst into flames that spread to the barrel, the thing combusting in a flash of heat and sound, Leon narrowly avoiding the explosion as he threw himself across the barn floor.

As the shrapnel fell around him and the shockwave died, Leon looked up from where he’d been shielding his head on the ground and saw—

Of course it wouldn’t be that easy. Mendez had seen better days.

Probably ten feet tall at this point, all spine, all disgusting. It was as if the parasite inside of him had grown too big for the body, splitting Mendez’s torso in half like a demented slinky dog, the top half wobbling in the air with claws from the human arms and insect legs of flesh sprouting from the back, the legs moving shakily like a child learning to use them for the first time. Terrifying and unlike anything Leon had seen. For a second, he was so shocked by the monstrosity in front of him that he forgot he was supposed to be fighting for his life. Then fire licked the exposed skin of his arms and he realized just how _bad_ this was. A semi-indestructible monster and no way out of a burning building. 

_He should have left Ashley a gun._

Mendez yowled to the ceiling and strode forward, eyes pinning Leon to the spot as he forced himself to think this through. What he was gleaming from this B.O.W., what he knew about the infection, where Leon had been injected himself— all of it was the spine. And this guy, fucking Mendez? He was now more than fifty-percent spine and an easy target. He was slow, his balance was atrocious, he was vicious but calculating and more intelligent than the others, which meant he could recognize patterns, which meant _he could be tricked._ And his reach was so high— all Leon had to do was stay low, cross the sides of the barn, fire everything he had into the towering spinal column, and wait for the entire thing to snap in half.

Leon dug in his boots and unslung the shotgun from over his back. Eight shots. More than enough. 

Mendez was nearly on top of him, swinging low with those pincers cutting down for Leon’s head. He dropped onto his ass and fired straight up, relishing the pain cry that came from taking a shotgun blast to the face. From beneath, Leon rolled out from Mendez’s reach and rounded him, firing three more shots into the spine and listening to the screams it made, almost like it was its own separate creature. Definitely a parasite, then, and a large one, selective brainwashing because Mendez could speak for himself while other infected couldn’t. Leon wondered which strain was inside of him. 

His thoughts damned him— Mendez swooped low, teetering, and one of those claws narrowly missed slicing open Leon’s chest. He fell back entirely, sprinting to the other end of the burning barn, pulling out the rifle to slam the high caliber bullets into the mess. Mendez stalked forward slowly, growing angry as Leon stayed out of his reach, this infection being more of a hinderance than a help. Mendez almost seemed pissed that Leon wasn’t cowering in fear. Pissed that Leon wasn’t begging for his life in the face of a monster.

Leon smirked bitterly to himself and fired bullet four from the rifle into Mendez’s spine. If only this asshole knew that Leon had seen _far_ worse. Mendez lurched forward like a circus act, bringing himself in for a .223 caliber bullet right between the eyes. The rifle was spent, but Mendez was shrieking, holding his claws to his face and writhing. Leon pulled out the shotgun again and fired the last of the slugs into the spine, his hands shaking with adrenaline as the parasite was torn away and—

The spine snapped.

The lower half, the legs, they kept stumbling, walking towards Leon. He made a noise of disgust and kicked the legs back, watching them fall useless to the ground, the foot twitching with the last throes of life. The triumph Leon felt was short-lived when he looked up and saw Mendez’s awful pincer legs slamming into the high beams, wood splintering as the fucker refused to die and began to swing from the rafters like a demented trapeze act from hell itself. “You gotta be kidding me,” Leon whispered, before whipping out the Mauser and firing almost wildly as Mendez launched himself at Leon, miles faster without those legs holding him to the ground. 

Mendez landed atop Leon, pinning him to the ground, close enough to the growing fire for Leon to feel pain from the heat, his body telling him he’d die if he got any closer. Mendez cackled and those claws swiped for Leon’s chest again. The kick of the Mauser and the burst of blood of Mendez’s hand gave Leon the time to bring his knee to his ear and slam the bottom of his boot into Mendez’s face, throwing the monster back. Leon scrambled away, his blood roaring in his ears, the firing growing, spreading, he didn’t have room to stay away and Mendez was too fast. Four bullets left in the Mauser, he spun on his heel, saw Mendez was still too close, and kept with the spine, aiming for the parasite that was keeping this man alive. 

The parasite shrieked louder, loud enough for Leon to worry he’d go deaf if he managed to survive this at all. Little writhing tendrils came from the parasite along the spinal column, tendrils that were whipping about with what could be pain. Mendez’s face was screwed up with agony, eyes still burning with rage, but blood pouring from his mouth. 

Leon probably wasn’t any better off. Mendez swung for him again, dropping down from the rafters. Leon hit the dirt and rolled right into the encroaching flames, the fire singing the hair from his arms. He kept going, finding an untouched spot, slapping away the flames and trying not to panic as Mendez leaped for him again. Leon spent the last four shots of the Mauser with Mendez high in the air above him, leering down like a Leon like a spider enjoying the death rattle of a fly caught in its web. Leon was trapped at all sides, flames consuming everything, only three bullets left. For a split second, everything froze, everything was quiet, only the crackle of the burning building and Leon’s heaving breath. Leon and Mendez held eye contact. The parasite was struggling weakly. This was going to be the last moment on earth for one of them.

Mendez smiled like the devil and dropped down. Leon whipped out his last gun and fired the final three shots into the spine. Dead weight hit Leon, throwing him to the ground, Mendez blessedly lifeless atop him. Leon gagged at the blood and guts that covered him as he shoved Mendez off of himself and just—

Leon just laid on the ground, surrounded by fire. 

That had been too close. It was always too close, but that had been _too close._ He had no back up and no plan B, he had the president’s daughter relying on him and all he could do was survive by the skin of his teeth. Leon could have died. He _should_ have died. That had been too close.

He brought Rot to his chest and clutched the gun tight, holding it against his heart, letting the weight of the gun comfort him and soothe away the spiking rush of fight or flight, wishing Chris were still around so Leon could thank him for saving his life once more. 

Matilda, his old gun, had a mag capacity of twelve bullets.

Rot, Chris’s Samurai Edge, had a capacity of fifteen. 

That three bullet difference was the only thing that had saved Leon’s life.

“I’m okay,” Leon whispered to the flames surrounding. “Chris, I’m okay.”

He was going insane.

Leon looked to Mendez’s body and saw that one of the eyes— the red one, the inhuman one— had slid out from the man’s skull. It was perfectly rounded and reflecting the firelight in a way Leon knew a normal eyeball couldn’t. Leon reached out and picked it up, not surprised to find it was made of glass.

_“For only before my sight will the gate open.”_

“Your clues suck,” Leon told the eyeball. “All that money from the president and you couldn’t afford a better script.” Leon forced himself to his feet, ignoring the ache that pervaded every part of his body. “Ashley,” he whispered to himself, reminding himself of his assignment. She was waiting for him, still hiding, she could probably see the barn burning from where she was. She probably thought he was dead. She probably thought she was going to die too.

Leon grimaced and slid Rot into its holster at his side, inwardly disgusted with himself for that moment of weakness, for thanking Chris like Chris would actually care. Leon was just sending unwanted gratitude to a ghost. He let the bitter thought clear the last of the adrenaline as he scanned the barn quickly, looking for a way out. His eyes landed on the hole in the wall that had been knocked out by burning lumber falling from the ceiling. The flames surged again and Leon held his arms over his face protectively, wondering if the carbon dioxide poisoning rather than the infection. He also wondered if he was going to turn into something as horrifying as Mendez.

Bursting out into the cool night, Leon shivered without his jacket before jogging back up to the gate. He approached it slowly, alert for any enemy that could have approached, relieved when he saw nothing. “Ashley?” he called out gently, looking to the pile of cargo that she should be behind. “It’s Leon. Are you alright?”

There was a pause, too long, sending dread through Leon. Then a tiny noise, a little whimper, and: “Leon?”

Oh thank fuck.

“It’s me,” Leon assured her. “I got it. We need to go.”

Ashley crawled out from between two large boxes, standing on shaky legs with wide eyes when she saw Leon and the state he was in. “It’s not my blood,” he promised her. “We’ve got one less problem to worry about.”

“Are you hurt?”

Her concern was nice, but they had other things to worry about. “I’m fine, we need to get moving.” Something told Leon that Lord Saddler wouldn’t be happy about losing one of his more expensive toys. Whatever had been in Mendez was different than the rest of the villagers. That, and the fact that Leon had next to nothing to his name in the way of ammo. He hoped he’d scrounge up something along the way or run into Fish. “Can I get that knife back?”

Ashley seemed reluctant to hand it over, but Leon knew that this was their only line of defense at this point, and it’d be of better use in his hands than hers. He made himself find the same comfort in the grip of the handle as he’d found with Rot in his hand, even though the reach of Krauser’s knife fell short. He told himself it was because he preferred bullets to blades. Long range, keep the fucking teeth as far away as he could. That was all it was.

Leon strode to the gate, holding up the eye into the column of light that bled from the empty socket of the face in the center. The light died and an electronic beep answered him. Well shit, it was a retinal scanner. The gates swung open and—

“Is that a fucking castle?” Leon asked before he could think better about watching his words. In all honestly, Leon liked to think he’d seen a lot, but as a born-and-raised American, castles weren’t necessarily commonplace for him. Even back in South America, the structures had been manors and mansions, not stone castles from fairytales. This castle was huge, surrounded by a moat with a single drawbridge leading in, a larger landmass at the other side, waves crashing at the rock of the small island the castle was atop. The stone was light and the entire place seemed cold despite the few torches Leon could see. It looked like the furthest thing from welcoming.

“Is that the only way to go?” Ashley asked, huddled close behind Leon like she was scared he’d move ahead too quickly for her to follow. He really shouldn’t have left the girl behind with only a knife, what had he been thinking? Even though he definitely would have died against Mendez without the extra bullets, at least she wouldn’t be so clingy like she was now.

“I’ll bet there’s some other way,” Leon assured her, reluctant to go into that puzzle fest as well. A castle meant corridors and closed off spaces and dead ends, a maze Leon didn’t have a map to. He wasn’t about to drag Ashley into that kind of shit if he could help it. 

They moved up the trail together, Leon hearing nothing and hating it. The path seemed to go beyond the castle, rounding away and down a hill, leading further from the village, thank fuck. “That’s our way out,” he told Ashley with a grin. “Then we’re back to civilization and those cheeseburgers you like so much.”

Ashley was going to smile back, Leon could tell, but the her expression died into one of horror, pointing over Leon’s shoulder, down the path that they were planning to take. “Leon…”

Leon didn’t want to turn around again. Especially when he was seeing the approaching mob behind Ashley from the way they’d come. He wasn’t sure how it could get worse until he turned and saw a second mob coming down from their escape. Flames and pitchforks and machetes, all held high, red eyes burning into them. They couldn’t escape down either path, but the castle drawbridge would be too heavy for Leon and Ashley alone, they weren’t going to be able to cut off the horde, this was—

“Over here!”

The shout was gruff and stopping Leon’s heart even as his instincts buckled down and followed the order before Leon knew what was happening. The voice had come from across the castle bridge, which was the exact opposite of what Leon had wanted to do, and yet his feet were carrying him across without his control. Ashley was running beside him, their steps heavy on the wood. As they crossed the bridge, it started to lift, the downward slope of where the bridge was split in half to rise up making Leon’s footsteps hurried and clumsy. 

“Get the other crank!”

Leon’s body followed the second order without his permission as well, Leon and Ashley both darting to the crank and spinning it as quickly as they could. The voice commanding Leon’s body was to the right, at the other crank, but Leon couldn’t look. He couldn’t investigate. His chest was pounding and his hands were starting to shake. 

Don’t look, Leon. 

The bridge stopped lifting with a clunk and a huge hand wrapped around Leon’s shoulder, dragging him into the castle with a sharp, “Come on!” Leon kept his eyes on the ground. Leon didn’t listen to the voice. He didn’t think about the face that was attached, didn’t think about the hands on him, the warmth of an embrace, the gentle request to touch, Leon didn’t think about it because he couldn’t, this wasn’t real, this wasn’t—

“Who are you?” Ashley asked, her voice wild with panic as they slowed in the corridor that led into the front courtyard of the castle. 

Leon held his breath.

Then—

“I’m Chris Redfield.”

— Leon looked up.

Chris had barely changed.

His eyes were colder and there were more lines to his face, hardened tracks of frown lines that made him seem older than the four years he had on Leon. He was in a tight fitting, laurel green uniform with the BSAA globe on his right shoulder and a a holster strap across his chest, hugging his pectorals tight enough to squeeze the muscles. The gun in his hand was Heckler & Koch MP5A3, and it rested so comfortably in his grip that Leon could tell he knew the weapon better than most, but Leon didn’t miss the familiar H&K VP70M hanging from the holster on Chris’s waist. He looked—

Good.

“I was sent in by USSTRATCOM when Agent Kennedy went dark with his handler a few hours before,” Chris told Ashley, that voice, so strong and confident and reassuring, having the same affect on the girl that it had had on Leon years ago back in Raccoon City, when Chris had looked him in the eye and promised to keep him safe. “I’m here to help.”

Chris turned to Leon and his gaze softened. “How are you holding up, Leon?”

Leon’s heart was pounding in his chest.

“Peachy,” Leon said.

Then he pulled Rot up, held Chris’s own gun to Chris’s face, and pulled the trigger.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i got a stellar reaction to this one so i hope y'all don't hate me for some of the shit that goes down
> 
> also please note!!!! **a dubcon tag has been added to this fic.** i'm so sorry it's late, i haven't quite worked out all the kinks to the relationship and how it meshes with the plot. i can promise you that the dubcon is clothes on and taunting and yes it's still a mite fucked up but it doesn't go any further than a few #villainlines and there's no sexual activity actually involved in it, it's just the most fitting tag and it works well with the plaga mind control concept
> 
> again super sorry it's late :(

_“This is Agent Hannigan of USSTRATCOM— one of our Agents that was sent in pursuit of a lead concerning the missing US President Graham’s daughter has gone dark for over five hours. We are requesting assistance from the Global BSAA in retrieving Ashley Graham.”_

Chris had been ready to shove that request onto the next person, more preoccupied with hunting down Wesker and the last of the Umbrella researchers, when David Trapp had shook his head and pushed the report back towards Chris across the large oval table of the BSAA HQ conference room in the United Kingdom. 

“You’ll want to look a little more closely, Chris,” David had insisted solemnly. Years of working with the man had taught Chris how to read him, so the look in his eye had made Chris all the more nervous to actually read the report in depth. It was just one piece of paper, short and to the point, stiffly worded and ladled with bureaucracy. Chris didn’t really get it until he reached the mission summary, glancing over names and seeing—

Chris stood so abruptly from his chair that all the chatter in the room fell silent while he paced to the window and pulled open the blinds, like the light of the sun would give him more clarity. But even in the bright light, the sun setting against the London skyline beyond, the words remained the same.

_Agent Leon S. Kennedy: MIA_

Chris was going to throw up.

“Chris?” Jill called out from her seat beside Dir. O’Brian. “Chris, what’s wrong?”

Chris couldn’t respond, his hands shaking as he held the paper so tightly that the edges began to warp and tear beneath the dig of his nails. Leon’s name stared up at him, almost unfamiliar for how long it had been since he’d seen it, let alone heard it, let alone _remembered._ Remembering was the hardest part, reserved for quiet moments when he was alone and didn’t have to exist for the next forty-eight hours, for when he could just fall apart and let the memories consume him, the what-ifs and scenarios that tormented him in dreams overwhelming him like waves of the undead. 

Chris hadn’t seen or heard one thing about Leon in public in nearly six years and now that Leon’s name was staring up at him next to the words _MIA,_ Chris wanted to hurt someone or even himself. His eyes darted back up the paper, taking in the report with sharp eyes, trying to figure out what had happened and _how the actual fuck_ Leon had gotten involved. He was supposed to be in protective custody, Witness Protection Program, and miles away from all of this, raising Sherry in some suburb home with shutters on the windows and a white picket fence that Leon had to repaint every year, a lawn to mow, homework to help Sherry with, quiet evenings reading a book or what-the-fuck-ever, just not _this,_ not Leon S. Kennedy out in fucking Spain and _missing._

It didn’t— It didn’t make sense in such a jarringly severe way that Chris didn’t know he was swaying on his feet until a hand rested on the small of his back to steady him and he looked to see Jill staring up at him with earnest concern. “Is it Claire?” she asked. “Is everything okay in India?”

Chris couldn’t respond as the flimsy paper finally gave way beneath his shock and tore, the noise far too loud in the quiet conference room. Leon’s name was still there, it wasn’t going to go away, and Chris— 

He didn’t fucking understand, how—

“David,” Chris choked out, turning around slowly like he was in a daze. “How the fuck did this happen?”

David grimaced and folded his hands over his lap. “I’m afraid that is a story for another time. Ms. Graham’s life is in the balance and the United States Government seems quite desperate. The helicopter for Spain leaves in fifteen minutes, I need to know if you’ll be accepting the assignment or not.”

“Of course I’m accepting this, what the hell,” Chis snapped, already on his way out of the conference room to get to his office. “You tell those people I’m taking charge of this operation right now and that no one better get in my way!”

The door slammed behind him and Chris’s feet stomping down the linoleum hall was the only thing keeping him sane, the steady audible proof that he was on the move and heading to Leon, that he was doing the only thing he could do and it would have to be enough. He didn’t know how or why Leon had gotten shoved into some bullshit rescue operation for the President’s daughter when he was supposed to be—

How old was Sherry now? Around eighteen, Chris was sure. Claire was keeping tabs on her from afar, respecting the protective custody that was keeping Sherry safe from the world of B.O.W.s, Sherry was in high school and she probably had prom soon. Leon should be home, helping her get the corsage around her wrist and making her repeat the curfew over and over until she was blue in the face. Leon was supposed to be up late, waiting for her to get home, counting down the minutes, foot tapping, expression pinched, he—

Should have a boyfriend or a girlfriend, a job, a home, something safe and warm and miles away from what he’d grown up with. Leon was supposed to be normal and happy and _not in fucking Spain._ There had been rumors surrounding Wesker in Spain, there were things happening in that country that made Chris nervous to go there himself, let alone fucking Leon, who had been a civilian up until this point. 

What could have possibly possessed the president to pull Leon from protective custody? Was it his experience? Leon had been nothing but normal these past six years, he wouldn’t be able to handle such a dangerous operation after falling out of practice! Was there really no one better? Why hadn’t President Graham just reached out to the BSAA in the first place? Why go to a rookie cop that had been living an apple pie life? Were they that desperate? Or was Leon that knowledgable in this one particular area, enough to make them force Leon out of Witness Protection Program and back into this living nightmare? How—

Why did they do this? And why to Leon? Out of everyone Chris could think of, Leon was the last person to deserve being sent after Ashley Graham. Not because he wasn’t qualified, of course not, Chris still found himself in awe of the giants Leon had felled singlehandedly while Chris needed a team of men to manage the same thing and could never bring all of said men home. Leon was the furthest thing from unqualified even if he was out of practice, but—

It just wasn’t fair. 

He couldn’t let go of that moment in the elevator when the facility had been counting down their death, when Leon had first told Chris about his parents and the way Leon had made himself smile through the confession of the pain he’d survived. _One hell per lifetime,_ Leon had told him later. Now Leon was in hell number three and Chris— Chris could fucking _kill_ someone. Anyone. Whoever had put Leon back on the field and had gotten him so far up shit creek that MIA was now tacked next to his name like he was nothing more than a statistic.

Chris gathered his gear and made his way to the landing pad that would get him on the copter to a plane and then to Leon. Men and women scrambled out of his way as he stalked the halls again at an urgent pace, plastering themselves to walls to avoid his wrath, men and women that seemed stunned into silence by the fury written across his face. Never before had Chris been this angry in his life and never before had anyone seen him this far gone in his rage. He didn’t care if he scared these people or forever altered the way they saw him. Leon S. Kennedy was missing in action in the middle of a possible B.O.W. apocalypse and _he was alone._

God, Leon was alone. Even through the anger, the very thought had Chris wanting to break down and cry. Gentle Leon with his heart on his sleeve, so earnest to help people, so afraid to trust, melting into Chris’s touch and proving just how fucking brave he was. All alone in a horrible place with no one to watch his back, no one to look out for him, no one to pick him up when he fell. Alone. _Alone._

As Chris ducked into the helicopter and gave a terse nod in form of greeting to the pilot, unable to even force niceties, Chris swore he’d find whichever pencil pusher had shoved Leon into this again and make sure they had their civvie boots on the ground the next time an apocalypse reared its ugly head to let them see exactly what they condemned Leon to, up close and personal. 

. . .

Chris hadn’t been to Spain in quite some time, but he knew that, whenever that had been, it hadn’t been this ugly.

An oppressive overlay of dark clouds covering the moon coupled with heavy rain that had Chris gritting his teeth to fight off the cold, the water pervading his thermal shirt and nullifying the warmth it was supposed to keep. He hoped Leon had been dressed for the weather, the vague description of Leon’s person before having left for Spain being jeans, a brown leather jacket with cotton interior, and a gray athletic top with a chest holster. No patches or logos to identify him, not even a badge that could prove Leon was government. 

Was Leon government? Had the United States at least sanctioned Leon with some sort of authority before throwing him to the wolves or had they just given him a gun and a location and halfhearted well-wishing of luck? Was Leon really just some pawn to them to get back Ashley Graham? Chris didn’t care how important the President of the United States was to the political balance of the world, no one was worth more than Leon S. Kennedy in his eyes. 

_“Chris?”_

Jill’s voice in his ear had Chris checking himself and loosening his jaw. He had a bad habit of grinding his teeth when he was upset. He sighed and pressed his finger to the coms, the wire leading down beneath his shirt and into the radio in the back of his vest. “I’m here, Jill,” he replied in a low voice, aware of murmuring all around him. He was at the outskirts of what appeared to be a village, moving along the edge that was sectioned in by a huge stone wall. He had no idea how to get inside, but he didn’t know where else to begin. “I’m just outside the village. This wall is slick, no trees surrounding it. I don’t know if I can climb it.”

_“Wow, Chris Redfield has finally found something he can’t punch his way through.”_

He scowled. “How can you joke at a time like this?” he demanded, doing his best to keep from snapping because it wasn’t Jill’s fault, but god damn. “Leon’s been sent into what’s looking to be a B.O.W. terrorist hotspot when he’s supposed to be living the American dream. How can you laugh about this?”

There was quiet static, then Jill saying, _“I’m sorry.”_

“It just doesn’t make sense,” Chris mumbled, a constant phrase he’d been repeating since that report had been slid into his hands. “Doesn’t make any sense.”

_“The handler, Ingrid Hannigan? She said her last transmission with Leon before he went dark put him by some sort of lake.”_

“And that was over eight hours ago at this point. Have we heard anything from USSTRAT since?”

_“Nothing.”_

“Have we tried?”

_“Only once, but it was a pretty solid door that got slammed in our face, so to speak.”_

“So Leon could be KIA and they wouldn’t even tell us.” Such was the curse of special ops. The person to find out first would be Sherry, when soldiers in dress blues showed up at her doorstep with an American flag held reverently in their hands, like a flag could replace an entire person, like dog tags were enough for a funeral. Leon deserved better, he deserved full honors, he deserved taps and the volley, he deserved to have his name carved into monuments, but above all, _he deserved to keep living._ And if Chris had arrived only to find out he was too late, that Leon was dead and gone and everything Chris had fought for had been worth nothing, Chris was going to burn this whole place to the ground and cut out tongues. 

_“They were able to give us a bare minimum on what you’re dealing with,”_ Jill told him. _“It’s the cult of Los Iluminados, a religious group that seems to be revering some sort of creature or organism that has divine significance. The cult date back to before the crusades, or at least in the same time period. They’re being led by a man named Osmund Saddler, who the President paid a hefty ransom to in return for his daughter.”_

“I thought the US didn’t negotiate with terrorists?” 

_“Well, it seems pretty reasonable to see why they normally wouldn’t, considering Ashley wasn’t ever returned despite receiving the money they wanted. Love of a father, right?”_

Chris grimaced. “Doesn’t make it right to send in a civilian. They think it’s something related to Raccoon City?” Why else would they send Leon unless he was one of the rare documented survivors, making him one of the few people that knew how to handle the T-Virus, or at least survive it? It was the only reason why Chris could imagine them taking Leon from his peaceful life and pushing him into this. And knowing Leon and his unending desire to help people, Leon S. Kennedy would tragically agree if it meant making the world a better place. 

_“They don’t know what it is,”_ Jill sighed. _“But they know it’s not your regular terrorist group. That’s all they could give us.”_

“Because that’s all they had or all they were willing to allow us to know?”

_“I don’t know, Chris, what do you want me to say? They’re still investigating the government’s involvement with Umbrella, who knows what they’re doing. For all we knew, this was some huge red herring to save a couple fat cats’ asses.”_

“At the risk of the President’s daughter? That’s a little too X-Files for me.”

 _“The president is on his first term,”_ Jill reminded him. _“All of that shit with Umbrella was before his time. He’s innocent of that, possibly one of the few. But that doesn’t mean there aren’t bad people still in office who are willing to risk anything just to keep their heads off the chopping block.”_

Chris couldn’t disagree and it upset him to no end. “I’m going to find a way inside,” Chris told Jill. “Or at least check the perimeter. Once I get a lay of the land, I’ll radio you and then tell you my plan.”

_“Noted. Still got that lucky lock pick?”_

Chris manually checked that the small box Jill had given him for his birthday last year was tucked away in the belt where it should be. She’d given him countless lessons to make sure he could use everything in it. Chris rarely even went on errands without the thing on his person. “Always with me.”

_“Be safe, Chris.”_

The breathy sincerity in her words wasn’t lost on him, and his chest felt heavy. He pushed that uncomfortable reality from his thoughts, wondering how much longer he’d be able to avoid it. Even Barry was exasperated with how Chris never managed to move on from Leon S. Kennedy. A few shaky dates here and there with women that never became anything more than a second dinner outing and an awkward goodbye, a botched one night stand that had left Chris ditching the man in the middle of undressing, whispering, “I can’t do this,” and hoping the other man would understand. “Move on,” they all said, “Be happy, be with Jill or at least someone nice.” It had been six years, but it felt like a lifetime to Chris, and it was only getting harder. Only after letting Leon leave him for a better life had Chris realized he’d fallen in love. The unfortunate duality of existence— never knowing what he had until it was gone.

Except Chris had known. 

The night spent with Leon, stealing his breath and pushing inside, feeling the man’s body trust and accept him in the most intimate way possible. Chris had known exactly what he’d had, and he’d— he’d chosen to let it go because Leon deserved a chance at a good life, a real life, the peaceful home he’d never had. Maybe it had been selfish to make the decision of ending what they’d barely begun to share on his own, but Chris would have never forgiven himself if he’d pulled Leon from that apple pie, picket fence life and thrown him back into the hands of monsters. Sometimes the right thing to do was what hurt the most. Chris told himself that nearly every day.

There was a light ahead, a dull glow like fire that had Chris dropping to lay prone in the mud, peering through the rail mounted scope on his H&K MP5 to get a better view. He squinted into the darkness and saw a man with glowing red eyes wearing—

A brown jacket with fur lining that definitely wasn’t meshing well with the rest of the man’s clothes. Chris’s boots had been on the ground for barely an hour, but he’d been in countless places like this, overrun with monsters and sickness. His gut was pretty well honed at this point and his gut was insisting that this jacket wasn’t the man’s. It was too perfectly to the description of Leon’s clothing and the man— dark hair, pale skin, a mustache— wasn’t Leon.   
Chris had no idea what he was dealing with. He had no idea where he was. He didn’t even know if his target was still alive. All of his training was telling him that he needed to continue to lay low and observe until he had a good grasp on the situation. Don’t draw any unnecessary attention to himself. Don’t make a sound.

The spray of the MP5 and the rattle in his hands was almost as satisfying as watching the man in Leon’s jacket drop to the ground with an inhuman noise as Chris took out his kneecaps. He quietly sprinted towards the fallen man and finished him off with a volley of bullets to the head. Seemed human enough, aside from the red eyes, and what really mattered was that the coat was still intact. Chris pulled it off the corpse, not even sorry for what he’d done, and folded it up, tucking it away between his torso and his utility belt. Hopefully he’d find Leon alive so he could return the damn thing because if this fucker had it on, then that meant Leon didn’t. And jesus christ, it was fucking _cold_ in this rain. He hoped Leon wasn’t sick or anything. 

He moved on from the corpse, sticking close to the wall and ignoring the shouts from behind it, figuring there was just some wild fucking party he wasn’t invited to, and thanking god for that. The man he’d shot had been holding some sort of pitchfork with the torch that had dropped into the mud and been extinguished. Smokey the bear would be proud. 

There was more light ahead, but an odd blue rather than the orange of a normal flame. Chris looked through the scope again and—

There was a figure in a trench coat with a bandana covering his face, waving at Chris from where he stood next to a pike in the ground that burned with blue fire. When Chris continued to stare, stunned by the bizarre audacity of whoever this was, the person seemed to grow impatient and waved him over, shouting something that Chris couldn’t make out over the distance and the rain. He shouldn’t go over there, and yet—

There were no weapons on his person that Chris could see, and both of his hands were well within Chris’s line of sight. He didn’t looked like the man Chris had just killed, and even though that was likely because the only part of him that wasn’t hidden was his eyes, Chris found himself not seeing whoever this was as an outright enemy. So against his better judgement, Chris jogged towards whoever this was, eyes peeled, hackles raised, but his gun pointed at the ground. 

“Hello, stranger!” the person bellowed, a man with either an Australian or extremely-cockney accent, definitely not local. “Couldn’t help but notice ya seem to be a little lost! Looking for someone?” The man leaned to the right, peering around Chris’s back. Chris frowned as the man pointed at the jacket Chris had and said, “That doesn’t belong to you, friend. Maybe you’ll want to tell me why ya have that?”

“Who’s asking?” Chris demanded. “Not that it’s any of your business.”

“I am the newly-named Fish,” the man said, actually bowing with a sweep of his arm and a dip of his head. “A name I bear with pride for reasons of my own. And who might you be?”

“I’m Chris Redfield,” he said as he finally decided this man wasn’t a hostile. “You recognize this jacket? Have you seen the man who was wearing it?”

“You mean the one you killed or the blond with the gun kink?”

That—

“What?”

The man chuckled, ragged and throaty. “I think you’re in for a hell of a night, Mr. Redfield. As it is, may I interest you in a selection of fine goods? I’m sure you’ll find something to your liking, all at a very fair price.”

Chris was about to deny the man when that long overcoat was swept open and a wall of weapons and ammo stared Chris down. He gaped, wondering after the brute strength of this man, amazed Fish was able to carry all of this around. And there was so much to choose from, a fucking plethora if Chris was going to use his word of the day. Except— “I don’t know who you think I am, but I didn’t exactly hit up the currency exchange on my way here.”

Fish laughed again, throwing his head back. “First one’s on me! Cause I like ya so much. And— I’m thinking our friend could really use that back.”

Was he talking about— “So you do know Leon.”

“Let’s just say I know of a man and a woman that are about to get in way over their heads if they’re not careful,” Fish replied cryptically. “And another fine lady that’s going to be in just as much trouble.”

Another person? Chris narrowed his eyes. He only knew of Ashley Graham and Leon. “Can you tell me or are you going to keep being a vague pain in my ass?”

“If I told you, you’d probably be worse off.” Fish’s eyes crinkled like he was smiling. “But then again, you’re probably used to ghosts, aren’t you, Redfield? You’re already planning to meet one today— what’s a second? Or even a third? Hell, why don’t we all just have one big graveyard reunion and pray we walk away from it with all our limbs intact? You better be careful where you put your feet, lest you end up in an early grave of your own.”

Chris’s grip tightened and flexed on his gun, the leather of his gloves creaking. “Where’s Leon?”

“Can’t say for certain as of now,” Fish said. “But I can tell you where he’ll be.”

“Spill it.”

Fish laughed— always fucking laughing. “How about this? That freebie? We can stretch that to information as well. But you’ve only got one freebie to use. What will you ask? About the agent or maybe your actual mission, the President’s Daughter? And what if the man I’m talking about isn’t even a man anymore? The way things are here, he could be much less than a man by this point. And what about yourself? There’s no way you’re getting out of here as easily as you think. Then there’s the things you’re up again— you think Lord Saddler can orchestrate all of this? He’s smart, but he ain’t a genius. And even through all of that— don’t you wonder about how this even happened in this first place?”

This guy— knew way too much.

Chris took a step back, overwhelmed by the possibilities in front of him. So much useful information and only one question available to him. It was true he was officially here for Ashley Graham, and if he didn’t have her, he likely wouldn’t be able to evac himself out, let alone Leon. And then there was his ignorance to what he was up against, the red eyes unlike anything he’d experienced with the T-Virus. And rumors of Wesker were funneling to here, Chris could actually get some solid info on his MO. And above all of that— who was this other woman?

But who was Chris kidding? He was a BSAA Operative, but long before that, he’d been in love with Leon S. Kennedy and he still fucking was.

“Is he alive?” Chris asked, his voice strangled. “Just— please. Tell me he’s alive.”

Something hardened in Fish’s gaze. “He’s alive,” he told Chris, but the relief Chris felt was squashed when Fish added, “He’s infected.”

Chris’s knees felt weak. “Oh god.”

“You’ve some time before it’s irreversible, but his priorities ain’t exactly on track yet. Kid’s in a bad way and he’s about to face down something that’s a lot worse. But it’s only downhill from here on out. The powers that be think he can be used, same as Ms. Graham. If you want to get to them before ya get cut off completely, ya’ll need to move fast.”

Fish turned and pointed somewhere north, toward a cliff edge that dropped into darkness. “Follow the cliff till ya get to a gaudy castle. If you’re fast, you’ll beat them. If you’re not, you won’t be able to get inside and you’ll lose them for good.”

Chris hoisted his MP5 around his shoulder, ready to sprint, but having to first ask: “Wasn’t that a second freebie?”

“From someone else, not you.” Fish waved him along. “Get moving, Redfield. Wouldn’t want my generosity to go to waste.”

Chris nodded his gratitude before booking it, feet slapping in the mud as he raced between the sparse trees and followed the cliffside. In the distance, he could see the very castle the man had been referring to, a terrifying backdrop against the fogged landscape. He’d seen enough of this horror story bullshit to know that a castle was the last place he wanted to be, the entire structure being a glorified cage with nicer interior decorating but less ventilation. Leon was smart— Chris knew Leon wouldn’t end up in a place like that unless he had no choice. And Leon without a choice was a scary situation for Chris to consider.

He made good progress, keeping closer to the jagged cliffs to avoid any other villagers that could be out patrolling. As he got closer to the castle, he started hearing gunshots from beyond, a steady staccato that his instincts insisted were Leon, though it could really be anyone. He just hoped it was Leon, because gunfire meant someone was alive and pulling the trigger. _Please let it be Leon._

He was close enough to the castle to slow down now, his eyes alert and picking up a column of smoke and violent glow beyond a wall that was down a slow from the castle drawbridge. A huge fire, definitely something to worry about, thought Chris wasn’t sure if there was anyone he could call or anyone that would even come. He almost thought he should check it out, but if he missed Leon—

There was a sudden cry, a shout in a language Chris definitely didn’t speak, and he saw more glowing, torches of a mob approaching. For a moment, Chris almost stood his ground, brought the MP5 forward, readying to waste every bullet he had until he would be forced to pull out Matilda and use her up until there was nothing left and Chris would be overrun. Taking on an angry mob of possible-infected was a suicide attempt. From what he could tell, they hadn’t spotted him yet. He needed to move.

Chris grit his teeth, forced into the same decision that he’d feared for Leon, heading across the drawbridge and into the castle because a huge fire wasn’t a better alternative. He reached the other end and saw two levers that were connected to the chains that would lift the drawbridge, cutting off the only way into the castle that was on a small chunk of land on its own, an island of stone and rock. 

At the gate of the castle, Chris could see a little inwards, the courtyard and towering walls with balconies and walkways and just about everything he could have expected. More torches, like this part of the country didn’t know what electricity was, and wooden doors everywhere. A real pain in Chris’s ass, from the looks of it. He glanced around, trying to see if there was any other way across, maybe down below, on the cliff face, when he heard the shouting reach a feverish pitch, more joining the masses. Chris brought up the scope to look across the bridge where two mobs were approaching, forcing a funnel, closing in on two—

_Leon._

Chris’s heart stuttered in his chest as he laid eyes on—

On the _man,_ holy fucking Christ. Years ago, when Leon had brought down that Tyrant all on his own, Chris had finally made a personal distinction between kid and man for Leon S. Kennedy, but even though he’d no longer thought of Leon as a kid then, Leon had still fucking looked it. He’d been all soft edges and baby fat with wide, hopeful eyes and a smile that bled with innocence. Strong, yes, smart, absolutely, but young, undeniably young, and precious.

This Leon— wasn’t that.

Where he had once been gentle curves and lingering softness, Leon was now hard lines and shredded muscle, his arms alone defined almost as well as Chris’s, and his torso rippling with coiled strength. His face was almost unrecognizable with how thin it had become, his jawline and cheekbones like knives and his eyes hardened steel. His legs were powerful and his thighs— jesus christ, his thighs. Chris had the bad habit of forcing the memory of the few moments he’d had Leon naked beneath his hands to the surface too constantly to be healthy. Now Chris was being forced to face the fact that Leon didn’t look like that sweet, earnest little thing anymore. Leon was a hardened fighter and—

That—

Made Chris think Leon had been doing this even longer than Chris feared.

The mob was closer. There wasn’t much time, and Leon was hesitating, not wanting to come to the castle even if it was objectively the only safe bet. Chris made the decision for him, shouting, “Over here!” He ran to the lever on the right, working the crank by himself, muscles straining with the exertion even as the bridge began to lift the tiniest amount. Two sets of feet thudded across the wood. 

“Get the other crank!” he ordered, so focused on the task that only once the weight was lessened by the efforts of the other two did he finally let himself take in a breath. They brought the drawbridge up completely and Chris darted to Leon— Leon, Leon, Leon was here and he was staring at the floor with nothing in his eyes— to grab the man by his shoulder and pull him away from the bridge, into the main courtyard. Once they were among the trees and out of the range of projectiles from the mob, Chris slowed, letting his hand from Leon’s shoulder, staring at the man. 

It was worse up close. Chris could see the defined muscles and gorgeous skin and— the bags under Leon’s eyes, the faint bruises around his neck, the way his muscles trembled and lungs heaved. Leon didn’t look like he’d been spending the past six years in the suburbs with Sherry and a dog. Leon looked like—

“Who are you?”

Chris tore his gaze from Leon to the girl— a blonde, petite, dressed like she lived and breathed boarding school with eyes wider than dinner plates. Ashley Graham, the President’s daughter, and the official reason Chris was supposed to be here whether he actually cared or not. The poor little thing looked so scared, though, her knees practically buckling. She was looking to Chris with something like relief, though. He was sure his imposing figure was comforting if someone didn’t know any better. Still. Chris was a soldier— he did what he did to help people like her. 

“I’m Chris Redfield,” he said. 

Only then did Leon look up.

Leon stared at him owlishly, those gorgeous blue eyes almost gray with how empty they were. Chris felt like he could throw up all over again, the words “MIA” tacked next to Leon’s name flashing in his mind, Fish telling him Leon was infected. And—

They’d been apart for so long. _Six years._ Chris hadn’t realized he was in love until he’d come home from the twisted Ashford hell in the Antarctic only to hear that Leon had been taken in. Hearing that Leon was gone was when Chris had realized he’d fallen in love, because nothing had ever hurt like that, not even a bite or a bullet wound. And Chris never got over it, never got any better. He was in love with Leon S. Kennedy, the man standing before him, who was almost unrecognizable and staring at Chris like he was dead on the inside. 

“I was sent in by USSTRATCOM when Agent Kennedy went dark from his handler a few hours before,” Chris told Ashley, looking away from Leon again to stamp down the emotions roiling in his chest. “I’m here to help.”

Those blue eyes bore into Chris like a monster’s fist. He couldn’t ignore it. Chris turned to Leon and felt his heart show on his face, the ache that made him want to barrel forward and gather the young man in his arms. The touch of his hand to Leon’s shoulder still burned, the heat of the other man reawakening sensory memory, the way Leon’s whole body trembled when Chris was inside him. “How are you holding up, Leon?”

Leon blinked slowly at him. There was a second’s pause before Leon said, “Peachy.”

Then Leon pulled his gun from his holster and held it to Chris’s face, pulling the trigger.

Chris flinched.

The click of an empty magazine was the loudest thing Chris had ever heard in the world. 

Leon dropped his arm, the gun falling uselessly to his side. It was a Samurai Edge, Chris’s Samurai Edge, clean and functional and in Leon’s hand like it had never left. His heart had stopped in his chest the moment Leon had pulled the trigger, and it hadn’t restarted yet. He stood there in stunned silence, unable to process what had just happened. The barrel of his own gun, the hand pulling the trigger, the toned arm connecting to Leon, who Chris could barely recognize. What had happened to Leon? How did he become this way? What had they done to him?

_What had they done to him?_

Leon stared into Chris, those blue eyes still as dead as a zombie’s. “What are you doing here, Chris.”

No inflection to the question, not happiness, no surprise, nothing. Just like his eyes, there was nothing in Leon’s voice. Chris didn’t know how or why or when, but someone had _broken_ Leon and Chris was terrified that it had been him. 

“The request was given to the BSAA,” Chris replied stiffly, feeling a little empty himself. He was staring at Leon, but his peripherals were trained on the shoulders, the arm, ready to see if Leon would pull another gun on him. Leon had a rifle, a shotgun, a Mauser, he had more than the Samurai Edge, he could kill Chris if he really wanted to. He’d pulled that trigger like he wanted to, after all. “I was sent to check on the situation and take control, bring Ashley Graham home if needed. Now that I see that you are— functioning and uninjured, I can see the situation is under control.”

“Under control,” Leon repeated slowly. “Does this—” He gestured at the castle around them, to the drawbridge with the shouts of the mob beyond. “— Look like it’s under control?”

“You’re both in one piece,” Chris said.

“We’re infected,” Leon shot back.

A piece of ice slid into Chris’s chest and he shuddered in a breath. “I know.”

Leon scoffed. “Does that seem under control to you?”

“Are you implying you can’t handle the situation?”

Leon— sneered, and Chris had never seen this expression on Leon’s face before. He hated it, he hated everything about the hateful twist of Leon’s lips, the narrowed brow and the flashing anger in his eyes. “I’ve got everything on lock, _Redfield,_ ,” Leon said, spitting Chris’s name like it was a slur. “Oh wait— BSAA’s finest captain, right? Should I call you _Sir?_ ”

God, Chris was going to _vomit._ “If the situation is under control, then I’ll follow your lead to evac and we’ll mark the assignment as complete without a hitch,” he replied, trying to keep his voice steady and his head above water. “If you believe otherwise, my orders are to provide aid wherever I may and escort Ashley Graham back to friendly territory. I’m not—” His voice caught against his will and Chris cleared his throat. “Don’t— I’m not above you.”

“Of course you’re not,” Leon replied, sounding so fucking _hateful_ that Chris couldn’t even recognize his voice. The breathless gasps and needy moans felt like they were decades away from him now. “This is my op and Ashley Graham is my responsibility. You follow my orders and you report to me. And you’re not gonna say a god damn word to me ever again, are we clear?”

Chris wet his lips and took a step forward, reaching out with a hand that shook, desperate for something, desperate to know Leon didn’t hate him. “Leon—”

Leon slapped the hand away with a snarl. _”Don’t you fucking touch me!”_

“Leon?” Ashley Graham’s trembling voice snapped both men out of their stalemate, just barely keeping Chris from eviscerating himself to escape the pain of how Leon was looking at Chris like Chris was an enemy or a monster or even his parents. Chris almost wished one of the former two would show up and tear Chris's throat out so he wouldn’t have to live with these new awful memories of Leon S. Kennedy. He wished he’d never come and discovered what had been done to the man. He wished he’d stayed away. “Leon, what’s happening?

Leon glared Chris down, and— did his eyes flash red for a moment?  
“Nothing, Ashley,” Leon bit out. “Come on, we’re moving.” Leon jabbed a finger at Chris and ordered, “You’re rear. Don’t let anything come close her— got it?”

A job. A protective detail. That’s all this was. Chris grit his teeth and held the MP5 up at his chest. “Got it.”

Leon looked ready to move on, except— Leon scowled and cut his eyes away from Chris. “Got any ammo? I’m on empty.”

“In everything?”

“Answer the question, Redfield.”

Chris didn’t have anything for what Leon had in his arsenal, but—

Chris pulled Matilda from her holster at his side, holding it out to Leon with a guarded expression. Having this on him said too much, but then again, so did the fact that Leon had kept the Samurai Edge all this time. While the Samurai Edge was a good gun, Leon was practical. He wouldn’t have kept it for anything other than sentiment, and Chris didn’t even know where to begin unpacking that.

Leon stared at the gun like it was a severed head. Then he snatched it from Chris’s grip, taking care not to let their bare skin or gloves graze. Leon held the weapon expertly in his hand, though he readjusted his grip several times. It probably took some getting used to regardless of how long Leon had owned the thing before it had fallen to Chris. Leon pulled back the slide, tested the safety, looked over the gun with a keen eye, and said, “You took good care of it.”

“Had to keep it in good condition,” Chris replied honestly before he could stop himself. “Meant to return it one day.”

Leon sneered again. “Liar.”

Then Leon was turned and jerking his head for Ashley to follow him, not letting Chris get a word in. Leon— thought Chris was lying? Why would he think that? Had he—

Had Leon not gotten any of his letters?

There had only been a few, maybe five or six, and mostly all at the beginning of their separation, but there had been letters regardless, brief explanations and apologies and begging for Leon’s forgiveness, letters Jill had promised would get to Leon, even if the means were illegal. But Leon was talking like he hadn’t read a word Chris had sent him. Had he ignored the letters out of spite or had he never even seen them? Oh god, how much worse could this get?

Chris followed Leon and Ashley with a numbness to his thoughts, the gravity of the situation slowly sinking in like tar. He’d thought it had been bad enough, leaving Leon out of the fight. Leon— had been cut off from him and Chris hadn’t even known. He’d accept Leon’s lack of response as either anger or inability. But if he hadn’t even heard from Chris at all? 

Chris stared at Leon’s back, unable to really appreciate how attractive and strong Leon had become from all angles when he was terrified that Leon had shattered into a different person years ago and Chris hadn’t been there to help him. Dear god, Chris hadn’t been there. 

“Get down.”

Leon’s order had Chris snapping to the nearest wall, grabbing Ashley and dragging her behind with him. While he’d been following Leon, lost in his tremulous thoughts, Leon had actually been keeping his eyes open for enemies. Thank god for that. Now that Chris was back to the present, he could see what they were up against. A maze of stairwells and walkways that led to different parts of the castle, but one particular set of huge doors behind pacing figures in dark robes, chanting in low voices, words Chris couldn’t understand. He looked over to where Leon had cover behind a box, then to what cover he had for himself and Ashely and—

Chris spotted the box marked with the Jackal and tossed it towards Leon before he could think. For a horrifying moment, he thought he’d just thrown bullets straight at Leon’s face. Then Leon’s hand shot into the air and caught the box seamlessly, the bullets rattling as Leon dropped it to his feet and started loading the rifle, eyes trained on the patrolling priests, mouth a grim line of resignation, and—

Really fucking hot, oh no.

Probably the worst time to realize— _again_ — the man Leon had grown to be, but watching Leon slip the rounds into the rifle with nimble fingers and bring the long weapon up, resting it against the crate, only to squeeze the trigger with featherlight confidence— and two of those fuckers went down, heads just gone, a double kill with a single bullet, the rifle in Leon’s grip acting like a priceless necklace around a woman’s bare neck. The necklace was pretty, sure, but it was designed to draw more attention to the best qualities of the person wearing it. The deadly glint to Leon’s eye, the determination as he pulled the slide and ejected the cartridge, the sound of a second bullet declaring the death of another cultist. All of these things were only making Chris hyperaware of how _lethal_ Leon had become, and how magnetic that was for him. 

Chris winced at his own realization, suddenly wary of how his attraction to Leon was no longer being based on just how gorgeous the kid was, but how dangerous. God, maybe his own psyche had taken a couple hits over the past few years too. 

“That’s all I can do from here,” Leon said, snapping Chris out of it and making him pull his eyes from Leon arms— holy shit, his arms— to look at the man’s face. “We need to find a way inside, there’s too little cover up here. We’re sitting ducks.”

“Seems to me like you put down the hunters before they could take us,” Chris replied offhandedly. “Good shooting, Leon.”

The sharp intake of breath and the piercing _glare_ from Leon reminded Chris that they definitely weren’t in the place to be trading compliments. Chris winced and put a hand on Ashley’s back, nodding to Leon and avoiding his eyes. “You lead the way, I’ll make sure she doesn’t get yanked out from under us.”

There was a long pause. Chris had to look to Leon regardless, and the cruel smile playing at Leon’s lips reminded him of Wesker. _“On me?”_ Leon asked, voice like acid.

Chris’s hands shook. He breathed in slowly through his nose and out through his mouth, forcing himself to calm down and not put a bullet in his own head for how much it hurt to hear those words from Leon after so many years and for Leon to say them like they were a curse. Chris sunk his teeth into his tongue until he tasted the tiniest bit of iron before staring Leon down and replying, “On you.”

The cruel smile died into a scowl and Leon stepped out from behind the barrel, Matilda up. As Leon went ahead, Ashley turned back to Chris and whispered, “What did you do?”

Chris grimaced. “That obvious?”

“I-I haven’t known him long, but he’d seemed so nice…”

“He is nice,” Chris assured her. “I just— bring out the worst in him.” That was what seemed to be the case. “Follow him. He knows what he’s doing.”

“If you’re sure,” she said, glancing back to Chris one last time before following Leon. Chris almost felt bad, bogarting the op and throwing Leon off like this. Even Ashley was giving in to instincts, trusting the larger man over the pretty blonde that barely looked older than her. Meanwhile, Chris probably looked like he ate terrorists for breakfast— grapefruit, cereal, and the bones of his enemies, wash it down with some orange juice to support his immune system.

They followed Leon down a corridor, Leon’s eyes trained above so Chris kept his sights in front of the younger man, making sure he didn’t walk into anything. The air of this place was heavy and the slightest noise had Chris jumping. Leon tread carefully up a set of stairs, his boots soundless on the stone, while Chris and Ashley couldn’t seem to _not_ make noise. A rock skidded across the steps from where Ashley made a mistake and tumbled below. She looked to Chris with wide eyes and they both held their breath, waiting for something to happen. Silence pervaded. They both breathed twin sighs of relief.

“Keep moving,” Leon hissed. 

_“¡Mátalo!”_

The shout came from ahead, a a figure in a red robe with an oxen skull covering their face, staring down at them and giving the order that Chris was sure had to do with them dying. “Shit,” Chris grumbled before bringing up the MP5 and spraying bullets, watching the blood spatter from the robed figure, yet the figure didn’t fall. 

“That won’t kill them!” Leon shouted to him as returning gunfire echoed across the stone. Chris slammed back against the wall behind him for cover and watched Leon do the same, thankful the man was thinking quickly. “And that gate— it’s locked!” 

Chris didn’t know how Leon knew that until he looked across the upper level courtyard they had to cross to reach said wooden gate and saw the chains wrapped around the handles, chains they couldn’t possibly break. “Dandy,” Chris groaned as bullets smacked against the stone behind his head and sent rubble down the back of his shirt. “What do we do?”

Leon’s eyes danced around the area in front of them for options, the gears turning quickly in his head. Then he looked to Chris and ordered, “Cover me!” before darting out from behind cover before Chris could advise otherwise. Chris cursed beneath his breath and moved to where Leon had been hiding from the volley, taking down _anything_ that turned their sights to Leon. 

The man was fast, moving through the place with fluid grace, like water, he was terrifyingly fatal and efficient with every step he took, but Chris was still crushed with the overwhelming fear that he might not be good enough, that Leon might get killed because of him. Chris didn’t even think about counting his bullets as he sprayed down anything that was close to Leon, not even feeling triumphant as he took down cultists, only letting the hammering of his heart matching with the discharge of the MP5 soothe him as Leon bounded up a corridor and got atop a ballast, reaching a—

An actual fucking canon. 

Chris almost lost focus as he watched Leon operate a god damn canon like he’d been messing around with them since he was a child, loading the thing and setting the kindle, firing the canon at the locked door after lining the sights and bringing the gate— and the surrounding wall— tumbling down. There was a cry of shock from the two cultists left that were quickly brought down by Chris’s unforgiving trigger finger as Leon jumped down from the ballast and ran for the hole he’d made in the wall, shouting, “Move, move!”

“Fucking firecracker,” Chris said to himself before taking Ashley gently by the arm and pulling her along, the two of them running to meet Leon at the crumbled stone. “You couldn’t have told me your plan before you decided to destroy this place?”

“Sorry, _Sir,_ I’ll be sure to use the utmost transparency next time.”

As Leon glared at him, Chris realized he— deserved that. Keeping so much from Leon for so long, even when they were in the middle of the Umbrella facility and neck deep in conspiracy theories. Maybe Chris should be a little more understanding. It wasn’t like there had been time for Leon to spare. “Just be more careful,” he sighed, earning himself an even harsher glare. He also deserved that. 

“The way inside seems to be—” Leon cut himself off as he rounded the broken wall. Chris quickly rushed to his side, gun up, ready for another fight, then stalled when he saw blue light. 

“You!” Chris exclaimed, accidentally interrupting Leon, but he couldn’t really contain his shock in seeing Fish standing here before them, the merchant watching them closely. “How the hell did you get here?”

“What can I say, Mr. Redfield?” Fish asked, spreading his arms like a priest. “I’m a man of many talents, and a magician never reveals his secrets.”

“You know each other?” Leon asked, eyes cutting between Chris and Fish. 

“Something like that,” Chris said.

“We know _of_ each other,” Fish replied. “I’d say I know you a little better, Mr. Kennedy.”

Leon’s shoulders relaxed, and that’s when Chris realized that maybe Fish was much more of an ally than Chris had thought before. “I’m basically empty on everything,” he told Fish as he pulled Matilda from the back of his pants and— shoved it into Chris’s chest like it burned him. “How much for any ammo on you?”

“Special deal for you, as always.” Fish swept open his coat with dramatics and Leon surveyed the possibilities with a keen eye. “Also got an upgrade on some of the things ya’ve got. Shotgun’s nice and all, but I’m sure you’re much more familiar with this.” Fish reached deep into his coat and Leon’s grin when he saw the stainless steel Benelli M4 in Fish’s hands was genuinely a relieving sight. At least Chris knew something was still able to make Leon S. Kennedy smile, even if it wasn’t him. “Waddya say? Feeling like getting yourself a little something nice?”

“You know me so well,” Leon drawled as he took the shotgun and reached into his back pocket, handing over a wad of bills that Fish seemed pleased with. “Got any ammo for a Mauser or Samurai Edge?”

“Ain’t that shit custom made?” Fish patted himself down, then brought out a clean box of rounds from thin air. Maybe he really was a magician. “Not much for the Samurai Edge, maybe ten bullets. No idea why you’re holding onto something that particular.”

“Not important,” Leon said, trading more paper for the bullets, slinging the new shotgun over his shoulder and setting the obsolete against a wall. He reloaded the weapons with quick efficiency that boasted years of practice and then said, “Get what you need, Sir, I’m buying.”

So it really was back to “Sir.” Why wasn’t Chris surprised? 

“I’ve a soft spot for anything H-and-K,” Fish told Chris. “No spring running dry here.” 

“Just a cartridge each works,” Chris hedged as he finally put Matilda back in her holster, the poor girl unused by her old owner. Leon had pushed the gun away so readily, like having it back was the worst thing ever. Why did Leon hate his own gun so much? If anything, wouldn’t he be pissed at Chris for keeping it and demanding it back? Leon didn’t make much more sense now than he had back then. Even as Leon forked over the payment for Chris’s bullets, he found himself wondering why Leon was treating him so hatefully, yet buying him ammo. It just— wasn’t adding up. 

“It’s good you two found each other,” Fish said as they finished up their transaction. “Was almost worried ya’d keep crossing paths, but never quite meet. Two ships in the night, ain’t that the saying?”

“You have no idea,” Leon mumbled. Then he gave Fish a friendly pat on the shoulder and a boyish grin. “Seeya around, Fish.”

“Keep your head low, boys and girl,” Fish told them all. “It’s gonna get a little wide in there.”

Leon’s grin fell into a bleak line that made him look ages older than twenty-seven. “Watch your back, Fish,” he said. “Redfield, Ashley, follow me.” Leon strode to a red metal door that was just beyond where Fish had set up shop and pushed it open as they all went inside, the castle filled with warm light but somehow invasively cold, a burst of static came from Leon’s waist. “Great,” Leon said before pulling out a handheld communicator and holding it to his ear, a woman’s voice filtering through.

_“Leon— where’s your current location?”_

“We decided to lay low in a castle, but it looks like it was a bad move.”

“Decided” didn’t seem like the word for it. Leon had been all but forced into this castle, corralled like cattle being prodded with rods. He was taking responsibility for something that wasn’t his fault.

 _“Meaning?”_ the woman asked.

“Well it appears this castle’s also connected with the Los Illuminados. They must not get many visitors, cause they’re giving me one hell of a welcome.” Leon paused, then glanced to Chris, and continued. “There’s also an added— hitch.”

_“Is Ashley Graham okay?”_

“She’s fine,” Leon said. “But BSAA seems to have dipped their toes into this and they say they’ve been requested by STRATCOM. Any word on that?”

_“I sent them.”_

Leon flinched. “Huh,” he said dully.

 _“After we lost communication for so long, I deemed it necessary to reach out to a secondary resource should we have lost you completely. The President wants Ashley Graham to be brought back no matter what the risk. It was decided to be necessary to have a back up plan brought into play, though it was thankfully not required. Still, it’s good that you’ve made contact. While the BSAA is a new operation, they boast some of the most talented and capable agents in the world. I’m sure that this—”_ A pause, a shuffling of papers, this woman probably didn’t even know who Chris was off the top of her head. _“— Chris Redfield will prove to be an invaluable resource.”_

Leon stared at Chris, eyes empty. “Invaluable,” he echoed.

_“Anyways, back to the task at hand. I have an idea, Leon. I need you to—”_

The transmission was cut off, harsh static making them all jump. Ashley huddled closer to Chris as Leon’s brow furrowed in some sort of frustration. “What?” Leon called out. “Repeat, Hannigan.” Still nothing. “Great,” Leon said. “Just my luck.” He put away the communicator and turned to Chris with a sour expression. “You didn’t just fly in here blind, right? You’ve got contact with someone.”

Chris put his hear to his coms where Jill had been silent. “Valentine,” he called out, watching the way Leon kept his expression schooled. “You with me?” There was more of that static and nothing else. Chris grimaced and shook his head. “I’m in the dark here.”

“Well then,” Leon said. “Let’s just hope you prove to be that invaluable resource, Sir. Looks like we’ve got nothing else.” 

Chris winced. “Guess all we can do is move forward.”

“If we can’t talk to your handler, how will we know where to go?” Ashley asked Leon. “Weren’t they going to send another chopper?”

“We’ll get there,” Leon assured her gently, his voice softening into something reminiscent of how he would speak to Sherry or a civilian. Even after everything, at least Chris knew Leon’s cop instincts hadn’t been ruined. “Redfield and I have done this before, between the two of us, we can handle anything that comes our way. Just stay with us and you’ll be home before you know it.” Leon’s confidence in Chris was nice until Leon his eyes to Chris with a look of disdain. Seemed like Leon was also still just as skilled at putting his personal shit aside for others. Good to know.

“We need to find a way into the main hall of this place,” Leon told them. “From there, we’ll have access to the central corridors that will lead us out. All roads lead to Rome sort of concept. Maybe we’ll find someone who knows a thing or two and is willing to help.” 

Chris nodded and readied the MP5. “On you.”

Leon flinched harder. Seemed like the words were a double-edged sword. The younger man went to a staircase that was to the left of the door they’d come in, sights pointed up at the upper level above them. They climbed up and went to a second door, just as red and heavy, that brought them back out into the cold night, leading across a rampart. Chris saw Leon shivered and suddenly remembered the coat he had tucked away. He was about to offer it to Leon as they walked across the rampart when a male voice, heavy with an accent, called out Leon’s name.

Leon turned on his heel and— smiled.

Chris turned next and saw a Spaniard man in costume clothes, dark, wavy hair framing a handsome face. The jealousy that slammed into Chris without warning wasn’t surprising, especially when this stranger’s eyes landed on Leon and moved up and down like he appreciated what he was seeing. Could be checking for injuries, but doubtful. Chris’s grip on the MP5 flexed and when the stranger moved his eyes from Leon to Ashley and then to Chris, that glint to his eyes died away into something defensive. 

“Who’s your friend?” the man asked. Definitely a Spaniard, his voice smooth like honey. 

“I think I’m better asking that of you,” Chris replied.

“This is Chris Redfield,” Leon said, stepping past Chris to stand much closer to the stranger than Chris liked. “Sir, this is Luis Sera. He’s cool.”

Luis Sera smirked at the compliment and Chris decided he hated this man. “You heard the man,” Luis snipped to Chris. “I’m cool— so let go of the trigger before you hurt someone, eh?” He turned back to Leon. “I’ve got something for you guys,” he said excited as he started to pat himself down, feeling at his vest and pants, the excitement dying as he failed to find whatever he’d been looking for. “Oh _shit_ ,” he hissed. “I must have dropped it when I was running away from them!”

“Are you okay?” Leon demanded, a hand coming from his side to hover before Luis like he wanted to check him over for wounds.

“Why don’t you have a weapon?” Chris snapped

“Dropped what?” Ashley asked.

“So many questions, ¡ay!” Luis looked back the way he’d came with wild eyes. “It was a drug that will stop your convulsions.” A stunned silence fell over them, Leon even moving away from Luis with an unreadable expression. Luis sighed. “Look, I know you’re carriers,” he told Leon and Ashley. “And your friend will be too, if he’s not careful.” He looked solemn. “You’ve been coughing up blood, right?”

Leon and Ashley traded looks. When Leon murmured a low, “Yeah,” Chris felt ill all over again. 

Luis turned to Ashley. “And you?”

The poor girl looked so scared. “Yes.”

“Dammit.” Luis turned away, visibly distressed. “The eggs have hatched. We don’t have much time.”

“What are you talking about?” Leon asked, moving to stand beside Luis, that hand coming up again and hovering by Luis’s arm. Luis looked to Leon over his shoulder with something like fondness in his eyes, something that made Chris grit his teeth.

“I have to go back and get it,” he told Leon.

“Let me come with you!” Ashley instantly volunteered. “No, me,” Chris interjected. When Luis turned from Leon to him, Chris held his chin high, knowing how formidable he could appear. “If it’s something Ashley and Leon need to survive this, then we can’t hinge all our bets on one man. No offense, but you’re seeming more scientist than anything. I’ve got more than the proper training to keep you safe.”

Luis seemed to consider this for a moment. Then, “No. You stay here with Leon.” He looked to Ashley. “Both of you. He’s better with the ladies, I’m sure.”

His joke fell flat in the seriousness of the situation, while Leon’s face told Chris he was aching on the inside. Luis strode away, his footsteps heavy, a funeral march. Leon swallowed hard and started to speak, asking, “Why are you—” but Luis interrupted him.

“It makes me feel better,” Luis said as he walked away. “Let’s just leave it at that. Keep an eye on your new friend. Wouldn’t want him to end up in the same state as you.” Luis gave them a halfhearted wave and disappeared back into the castle. Once he was gone, Leon failed to keep moving.

Chris steadied himself, shifting his weight between his feet. Leon had been coughing up blood, he was infected, a carrier, as Luis had put it. He’d said the eggs had already hatched. None of this was adding up to anything Chris liked. “You should have told me you’re both coughing blood,” Chris said.

“You didn’t seem very surprised to hear we were infected. Figured you didn’t care.”

True, except, “Fish told me when I first met him. I’m sure you’d have appreciated my reaction then a little more.”

Leon looked exhausted. “I don’t know what this is,” Leon told him. “Neither does Ashley. It’s related to the cult, we know that much, and it makes these people as indestructible as any Umbrella virus, but it’s— different.” He took a deep breath. “It’s a parasite. Its own living organism. Attaches itself to the spine and takes control. I don’t know how long Ashley and I have until we become like the villagers.”

The girl shuddered, her already frail complexion losing even more color. Chris almost wanted to tell Leon to stop talking about it, at least around her, but he needed to know. “Is there a way to reverse it?” Fish had alluded there was, but if they didn’t have a clue where to begin, then the point was mute.

“I don’t think so,” Leon confessed in nearly a whisper, and Chris had no idea how this had to be affecting him. Chris wasn’t the one infected and his hands were fucking shaking. “It doesn’t matter. I’m getting Ashley out of here. The doctors stateside can probably do something for her. A lot more than I can, at least.”

Chris nodded. “And yourself?”

Leon hesitated. Chris didn’t like that one bit. “They’ll help you too, right?”

“Probably,” Leon said. 

“You’re a civilian, Leon.”

Leon made a face. “A— what?”

“Shouldn’t we get moving?” Ashley asked with a new, frantic edge to her voice. “He made it sound like we don’t have a lot of time left, what if there’s really nothing they can do here? We have to get back, Leon, we could die!”

“It’ll be okay,” Leon promised, though he still looked confused about what Chris had called him. “We’re gonna get to the main hall and find a way out of here. Once we’re out of this place, the com should work again, and Hannigan will tell us where to go.” He stared Ashley down and then made himself smile, this tiny little thing that had Ashley relaxing, though minutely. “We’re gonna be okay.”

“Okay, Leon,” she replied, voice wavering. “C’mon,” Leon beckoned to her, then giving Chris a terse nod with that smiling dying. “Let’s go.” Leon led them again, keeping a brisk jog, crossing the rampart into the next tower and heading down the stairs. He seemed to be looking everywhere all at once, checking all the corners first, searching for enemies and maybe more. This place genuinely was a maze and Chris yearned for a map, at least so his head would stop spinning as he tried to keep track of where he was. And with the castle being so oppressive with few windows, he couldn’t even check the sky to get his bearings. 

The castle was also very, very quiet, so when there was a shout of foreign language, Chris jumped in surprise before he even remembered they were in a combat zone. Chris yanked Ashley behind himself and stepped forward to be beside Leon, spraying bullets into the three monks that burst from a door and charged at them with maces. They all hit the ground, injured but not dead, before Leon even had his own gun out. As the monks— priests?— moaned in agony and struggled to their feet, Leon stared at Chris like he’d just woken up from a very bad dream.

“Eyes up, Kennedy,” Chris said to him, hoping to knock Leon out of it. 

Leon startled, then swung out the riot gun and laid shrapnel into the monks, three shells being all it took to put them down for good. Leon was pale, too pale. He wasn’t breathing right and he wasn’t looking at Chris. Chris wanted to reach out and touch him, ground him, but Leon had made it clear very early on that Chris wasn’t welcome to put a hand on him. Instead, he called out Leon’s name again and watched clarity filter back into those gorgeous blue eyes that Chris had missed so badly that it still hurt. Leon let out a shaky breath and Chris asked, “You good?”

From this close, standing beside the man, he literally watched Leon slam a door shut between himself and Chris, a wall coming down between them. Leon clenched his jaw and took a step away. “I’m fine, Sir.”

Chris fought the urge to sigh. “Of course you are. My mistake.” The wall between them was more than just the look in Leon’s eyes— it was the way he spoke, too. Not even saying Chris’s name. Who knew Leon S. Kennedy could be so good at destroying something without lifting a finger?

They left the room, passing the bodies, Chris falling back to take rear again and Ashley looking to him with huge eyes as he did. He knew she was curious as to what had happened between him and Leon, but that wasn’t Chris’s story to tell, and even if it was, he wouldn’t share it here. He just gave her a small smile and jerked his head forward so she’d keep moving. 

Leon led them into a courtyard with a huge wooden gate before them, towering high above their heads, almost two stories tall. When Leon tried to open it, he discovered it was locked. Leon let out a frustrated noise, turning to double back and find a key, probably, but Chris stopped him with a hand in the air. He pulled the lock pick kit from his belt and wiggled the box in the air, letting Leon heard the parts move inside. “I’ve got this.”

Instead of appreciating not having to look for a key, Leon just sneered. “Jill give you that?”

Chris frowned as he walked past Leon, giving him a wide berth, and went down on his knees in front of the door to set to work. “Would it be a problem if she did?”

“Honeymoon gift?” 

Chris almost dropped the delicate slivers of metal he was holding, shocked by the question. Why would Leon think that? Had he seen something years ago, back when he’d first met Jill? But had Jill even had feelings for Chris back then? Was Leon— Was Leon _jealous?_ “Birthday present,” he said, not asking any of his questions because he didn’t want to start a fight. “Barry got me a model fighter jet, too. And Rebecca gave me a personalized first aid kit for my bathroom. Personalized meaning all of the bandaids are Power Rangers.” 

Chris was smiling at the memory until he heard Leon scoff, the sound more hurt than indignant. “Glad to hear you guys are all just one big, happy family.”

God.

Leon hadn’t gotten a single fucking letter. Chris just prayed Sherry had been able to soothe the wounds of being abandoned by the people who had promised to be at his side. Before getting taken in, Leon had managed to find safe houses and fake passports for everyone single one of their family members, almost singlehandedly ensuring the safety of everyone they cared about. And then he’d just— been taken and they hadn’t even tried to get him back because Witness Protection was the better alternative to what they were about to head into. But that hadn’t been their decision to make, not really, and Leon had suffered for their selfishness. Chris didn’t have the words to fix this, so he just settled with opening the door and stepping back, hoping this accomplishment would let Leon feel something other than awful.

That wasn’t the case. When Chris turned and saw Leon watching him with glimmering eyes, Chris knew he couldn’t leave it alone whether they had an audience or not. “We thought it was better that you get the chance at a normal life than be dragged into the mess, but I see that we were wrong,” he told Leon softly, looking him in the eyes so Leon could see the absence of a lie. “We made a decision for you that wasn’t within our right to make. I— am so sorry, Leon S. Kennedy.” Chris shook his head and swallowed past the lump in his throat. “I’m just so fucking sorry.”

Leon— was unreadable. “… What do you think I’ve been doing this whole time, Sir?”

The title felt like a fucking knife. “Witness Protection Program,” Chris replied. “Jill and David showed me the official reports. You were charged as Sherry’s guardian while she’s also in protective custody. I’m so sorry for keeping you out of the fight when I know you believed in it just as much as I did. I shouldn’t have taken the decision from your hands and I shouldn’t have abandoned you. Especially not after— after what we went through together.” He paused, wanting Leon to say something, but Leon was just staring at him. 

“I just wanted you to be normal. And you loved Sherry so much. I wanted you to be safe. I wanted you to have a home.” Chris finally cut his eyes away, unable to take the emptiness in that blue. “I was wrong. I was so fucking wrong and the decision has haunted me constantly these past six years, but I never knew how much I hurt you until now. I didn’t know they’d send you into this after so long of being a civilian just because of your past experience from over six years ago, but I should have known. I’m just so sorry. I won’t even bother asking you to forgive me. I’m just— sorry.”

There was quiet. Then footsteps striding forward, Leon coming closer. Chris saw the toes of the man’s boots in front of him, so he looked up. 

_Leon was so close._

Close enough to kiss, close enough to share air. Chris’s breath caught as his eyes absorbed every detail of this beautiful man that had grown so much, become so much, changed in so many ways. Even for what Chris missed— the soft face, the baby fat, the tendency to smile above all— he was enraptured by what he saw now. The eyes of a fighter, the face of a courageous man, a monster killer and guardian of the people. Even though Leon wasn’t the same kid Chris had fallen in love with, he was still someone Chris would die for, and that love just continued on, seamless and unending, into the man standing before Chris now.

Leon stared into Chris and wet his lips. “My name,” he told Chris in a low murmur, whispered words of intimacy between them. “Is Leon S. Kennedy, USSTRATCOM agent and protector of the Presidential family, specifically against B.O.W. orchestrated terrorism and terrorist attacks. And I have been Leon S. Kennedy, USSTRATCOM agent and protector of the Presidential family for _six. Years._ ”

As Chris stopped breathing, Leon brushed past him with a sharp shoulder into Chris’s chest and pushed open the castle gate, spitting, “Be careful who you trust, _Sir,_ because something tells me you’ve been believing a lie for a lot longer than I have.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *sparkle fingers through the air* let's see how much worse i can make this with words alone hell yeah
> 
> Leon's not okay guys i just thought you should know
> 
> and Chris
> 
> *oh boy Chris*

The interior of the castle was as gaudy as the church Leon had found Ashley in and that was all Leon let himself think about until a cackling laughter that was reminiscent of a whiny thirteen-year-old echoed off the pillars and chamber walls, giving Leon something else to use to ignore the whirlwind in his head. He stopped in his tracks and held his hand back to keep Ashley and— 

“Keep quiet,” he ordered, not even capable of thinking of the name. He looked around the room, saw the stairs with the ugly carpeting, the huge balcony above that was meant for a king or queen, the doors beyond that would likely only lead deeper into the castle, the torches and drapes and tapestries clashing. It was all just fucking disgusting displays of a wealth that would be better off helping the villagers living in broken huts and mud rather than just supplying colorblind interior decorating. Leon hated wasted money and showboating and that’s all this place was. Just some asshole sitting on his high horse and looking down at everyone roiling in the filth. A dictator, a monster, a king to dethrone. A cackle pierced Leon’s ears and he started moving again, eyes sharp, looking for someone to take the fury in his chest out on.

“I was starting to wonder when you might notice us.”

Leon looked up and saw two men in robes and— what was likely a child dressed in a Halloween costume of Columbus, ridiculous pirate-looking hat and all, an eye-piercing purple with nearly-gray hair swept back into a ponytail. Leon frowned up at this walking disaster of a kid and glanced to his left and right, making sure Ashley and Ch— making sure that both of the people with him were staying back, letting him take point. “Who’re you?” Leon called out, taking a step forward, feeling a little like a joke himself for having to play along with this child’s twisted fantasy. 

_“Me llamo Ramon Salazar,”_ the child declared as the two robed figures with perfectly color-complimenting outfits stepped forward, obviously some kind of protection detail for the kid. “The eighth castellan of this magnificent architecture! I have been honored with the prodigious power from the great Lord Saddler!”

Oh great.

“I’ve been expecting you, my brethren,” Salazar simpered, bowing low with a hand across his chest. “Though there is an uninvited guest who isn’t so much family as foe, I’m sure we can make accommodations for him as well. What would you say to offering him our lovely gift, eh? Make him a little more like you.”

Leon scowled and stepped in front of Chris before he could even think about it. _“No thanks, bro,”_ he spat, keeping Chris out of direct line of sight. They were putting the plaga in Chris over his dead fucking body.

“My, my,” Salazar huffed, shaking his head. “We’ve got a feisty one.” He began to pace back and forth, aggravated, but hilarious comical in that getup while being under four feet tall. “If you care for your own wellbeing and the wellbeing of your companions, I suggest you surrender yourself and simply… become our hostages. Or, Mr. Scott, you can give us the girl, because you and that guard dog are not worth a penny, I am afraid.”

Leon grabbed Ashley by her elbow and pulled her between him and Chris as Salazar turned away from them and headed into the dark corridor that stretched behind the balcony. “You and your precious simpleton— you can die.”

Salazar and his bodyguards left and Leon heard the low growl of frustration from Chris before Ashley darted forward and looked to Leon. “I’m never turning into one of them!” she cried out, frantic and panicked. “Never!”

“Got that right,” Leon murmured, paying more attention to their options than her stubborn denial. Of course she wasn’t going to turn into a Ganado, it was Leon’s job to make sure she didn’t, and even if HQ thought Leon was so shit that he needed BSAA backup, he was still going to get his job done and without anyone’s help. “We’ll find a cure,” he promised the girl. “You’re gonna be okay.”

“And you too, Leon,” Ashley told him. “Right?” She looked past Leon to Chris and asked again. “Right?”

“Absolutely,” Chris answered, his voice alone making Leon’s body wind itself tight. The voice that had haunted Leon for six years now right behind him, impossible to ignore and tearing through him like he was made of paper. Ever since seeing Chris again— ever since he’d held up the empty weapon and pulled the trigger out of an instinctual and uncontrollable need to defend himself from the man that hurt him worse than any villain he’d ever faced— Leon had felt seconds from breaking apart. 

There was nothing to soothe the ache, nothing except the burn of Rot and the sharp edge of Krauser’s knife taunting him, telling him it would be over if he just put the blade in the right spot, whether it be in himself or someone else, just all the pain gone in an instant if he managed to get this one thing right. He was going to die, after all, the plaga was swimming in him, why couldn’t he just take back an ounce of control and die on his own terms rather than someone else’s? It was only fair that Leon’s final moments be an act of rebellion against the countless people that had pulled his strings like he was a puppet burning in the air for their pleasure. Why couldn’t he just—

“Where do we go, Leon?”

God, that fucking _voice_ , the voice of Leon’s nightmares and most precious dreams, the voice that kept his sanity cradled in warmth and the voice that tore his reality to shreds. He’d dreamed of that voice so many times and he hated every single one of those dreams no matter how good they felt or how they left him shaking and crying and wishing he would never wake up again, wishing he wouldn’t have to leave the world of dreams and that voice in exchange for living nightmares of his own prison. What Leon would have given to hear that voice one last time. Now that he had heard it, Leon wanted to cut out someone’s throat.

“Leon…”

Leon snapped his gaze to Chris and wasn’t sure what he saw in the man. Disappointment? Exhaustion? Sadness? Was Chris seeing that Leon was getting lost in his head again? That habit, that one fucking habit that had nearly gotten Chris killed. Leon wondered if that bite had left a scar and if the Tyrant’s piercing claw had left a hole that never healed. He wondered if Chris was just as haunted by Leon’s voice as Leon was by his.

“Luis said he had something that would be able to stop the convulsions, but that doesn’t mean he has a cure,” Leon said, thinking aloud and dragging his eyes from Chris. It was hard not to look, like if he stopped looking Chris would suddenly disappear like his dreams of the man, just another ghost. “If we’re going to find something that can fix us, then it’ll likely be with either Salazar or Saddler, since they seem like the top dogs of this whole operation. Wherever we go from here, it should be in pursuit of them along with finding a way out.”

“I… There’s something you should know.”

Leon scowled to himself. “Are you going to call me a civilian again?”

Chris grimaced. “There are rumors that Wesker is in this area and that he’s plotting something.”

Leon almost got whiplash from how quickly he looked back to Chris, lips parting in a gentle kind of shock. “Albert Wesker?” he asked, just to check. When Chris nodded, dread filled Leon. “That— is basically a worst case scenario on top of an apocalypse. Are you sure?”

“The BSAA is basically centered around locating the last surviving members of Umbrella and Wesker,” Chris told him carefully. He was probably giving away some heavily classified shit. Was he trying to make up for his previous ignorance to what Leon had been going through? It was almost impossible to think that Chris had genuinely believed Leon had just been putzing around some suburb and raising Sherry like a real dad. What system would trust Leon S. Kennedy with raising a child? He was a slow motion car crash, Leon was happy Sherry wasn’t relying on him to be an actual parent because he’d only fuck her up. Sherry’s foster parents absolutely agreed with him and he was amazed Chris had thought Leon was capable of being responsible for such an important and bright girl. 

“We have trustworthy sources saying he has his hands in _something_ in this area,” Chris continued. “There’s not much evidence aside from a few sightings and some intercepted transmission, but we’re confident that he’s involved regardless. And with this new B.O.W. being present, it makes sense that he’s here for his own personal gain. We know he has people working for him, at least two of them. And we know that B.O.W.s are his main concern right now, so the emergence of whatever this is only makes me more certain that he’s in the area.”

Leon nodded slowly. “Makes sense,” he murmured. “Because to be honest? I’m wondering how some backwoods cult managed to kidnap the daughter of the President of the United States. Seems a little above their skill level, you know?”

“I don’t remember who took me,” Ashley admitted. “But— I know they spoke English. Good English. I don’t remember an accent at all. And they were _big._ ”

Leon narrowed his eyes at this new bit of information and looked to Chris to see what he thought.

“Could be Wesker,” Chris said. “Could be anyone, really, but if anyone is capable of kidnapping someone so high profile, it’s him and his lackeys. Not this cult. Los Illuminados wasn’t able to wrangle funding from the president until after they got their hands on Ashley. Whoever took her had to be looking out for their own interests on the side, and that fits Wesker to the T.”

“So we’ve got a bigger fish to fry,” Leon sighed. “And if he lifts his ugly head?”

Chris frowned. “What?”

“If Wesker shows up, actually shows his face. Will you pursue him?”

“I— don’t understand.”

Leon’s lip twitched in disdain, hating that he had to spell this out. “If Wesker shows up and then skips off into the sunset after his next master plan, will you leave me and Ashley in pursuit of him? I know you said your real assignment for being here is the retrieval of Ashley, but are you going to put that on the back burner in exchange for Wesker? I won’t blame you if you did.”

Chris’s frown deepened. “I’m not leaving you, Leon.”

Leon reared back like he’d been slapped. “Shut up,” he choked out before he could stop himself, heart hammering in his chest and his instincts telling him he was going to get hurt if he didn’t run. His hand wavered to Rot at his hip, but he tampered down the gut reaction and told himself that Chris wasn’t doing this on purpose. The fucking idiot hadn’t even known Leon was USSTRATCOM, Leon was starting to think the man was just too dense to even understand the weight of his words on Leon’s psyche. It was so hard to stay mad at Chris now that Leon knew Chris had been something like a pawn himself, but then that would Leon leave without anyone to hate, and he _needed_ to hate someone. He just— he had to.

“Don’t say that shit,” Leon told Chris sharply once he could breathe again. 

“What happened between you two?” Ashley asked with that same franticness. “You’re both acting like you’re in some drama! Can’t you see we’re in danger?” She stomped her foot, but the tears brimming in her eyes were more scared than angry. God, Leon was a fucking failure. “If neither of you are going to put your heads together and get me home, then I’ll go by myself!”

“You’re not going anywhere,” Chris snapped, using his “in charge” voice that had even Leon falling in line on instinct with Ashley. “Yes, Agent Kennedy and I are acting unprofessionally, and I am personally going to take responsibility for that. This is his operation and his control was usurped against his will. Forgive him for being a little on edge, but I can promise you Agent Kennedy is not going to do anything but his best to get you home, so don’t you dare doubt him.” Chris faced Ashley down, expression fierce as he said, “Leon’s one of the best god damn monster hunters in the world and you and I are going to follow his orders to the letter because that’s how we get out of this alive. There is no one better to get you home than him. There’s just— no one better.”

Leon stared at Chris. His instincts were screaming for him to pull the trigger. There was something wrong with Leon, something deep-set and impossible to repair. His training had centralized around defense of himself and his assignment and to put down anything in his way without prejudice and now—

Now—

Chris wasn’t going to hurt him, yet Chris had done nothing _but_ be the focal point of an unending hurt for the past six years. Chris wasn’t his enemy, yet Chris was a threat to Leon and his assignment because he couldn’t function as perfectly as he needed to to survive this. Chris was on Leon’s side, he was an ally in this fight, and yet Leon had learned long ago that anyone who made Leon feel like this wasn’t his friend and wasn’t safe for him and wasn’t someone Leon should be around. But—

Chris really had— never hurt Leon on purpose. He hadn’t _known_ Leon had been recruited, he genuinely hadn’t. Leon hadn’t actually known Chris very long, but what they’d been through had been a crash course and Leon knew what the man looked like when he was lying. When Leon had told Chris he’d been doing this for six years… Chris couldn’t fake an expression like that. He couldn’t falsify the way he stopped breathing with a hitch that was so loud even Leon could hear it. Chris was a lot of things, but he wasn’t a good actor, and he wasn’t a liar. He just— He hadn’t known.

How could he have not known?

It didn’t matter.

Ashley— Ashley was the priority and Leon had been acting unprofessionally. “She’s right,” Leon said after Chris’s speech effectively tore through one of Leon’s last failsafes for his sanity. Even after so long, Chris still thought so highly of him, even after he’d seen what Leon had become. How— why? Why did Chris—

Focus, Kennedy.

“I’m calling a truce, Sir,” Leon said firmly so Chris wouldn’t doubt that he meant it. “Everything before this doesn’t matter. The mission comes first and it’s only that.”

Chris was completely unreadable. “Right.”

Leon clenched his jaw. Then he held out his hand to shake.

Chris stared at his hand like it was a knife. Then he reached out and hesitantly took Leon’s hand in his own. Leon thanked god for the gloves he was wearing, grateful Chris was wearing gloves as well, because even just the brush of Chris’s skin against his own would wreck him completely in a way Leon didn’t fully understand yet. But that didn’t fucking matter. They shook hands and that was it.

Leon washed away everything from the past six years and further and forced himself to look at Chris as nothing more than a fellow soldier fighting against bioweapons. 

“First priority is a cure for Ashley,” Leon said. “After that, a way out. If their masterplan really is to get Ashley infected and send her back, there’s no use in doing half the work for them. But if they do, if Hannigan insists and we get evac’d without finding the cure, I’ll need you to ensure absolute quarantine for me and Ashley with your BSAA connections. Go public if you have to, tell the world so President Graham has no way to justify keeping his daughter out of quarantine, just make sure Ashley and I don’t infect anyone else, no matter what the cost.”

“Yessir,” Chris replied and— oh. Is that why Chris hated when Leon called him sir? How impersonal it was, how it made Leon feel like he was nothing better than some bully ordering Chris around. He didn’t mind being called sir by others, but hearing it from Chris sounded very, very _wrong_ , like the balance of the universe itself was misaligned and he was in some sort of Twilight Zone, an alternate reality that was somehow a little worse than his own. 

“Don’t call me that,” Leon said before he could even think about the hypocrisy of the request. He watched a flurry of emotions run through Chris’s eyes, but the older man remained silent and just gave a short nod to say he wouldn’t. Even for how selfish the request was for Leon, he needed to distance himself from Chris, and calling him sir was still second nature in a way. Maybe it was wrong to give when he couldn’t take, but he felt like he was allowed to be an asshole after everything that had happened. “We— need to get moving.”

“Absolutely,” Chris replied. 

Leon nodded, turned to face that huge door that was their only option, and thoughtlessly asked, “On me?”

He practically heard the flinch. God, he—

He regretted using that against Chris outside the castle, on the rampart, so fucking cruel and poisonous. Leon was angry, but he didn’t want Chris to suffer like that. He didn’t want to ruin what had become almost sacred between them, the words meaning so much more than a definition, become a statement of trust and loyalty and fear and concern, asking after more than just cover fire and delving deeper into something that had seemed shakily like love, even though Leon had spent the last six years convincing himself that love wasn’t the case. But how could he have been so blind? Of course Chris had meant it the same way Leon had each time he’d said it. Chris was a good man and a bad liar. He had meant the words the same as Leon and now Leon had ruined the piety of the two words that said more than the sacred three and he didn’t know if he could fix it.

Chris’s voice echoed softly through the castle as he murmured, “On you.”

Leon made himself ignore everything he heard in Chris’s voice and led him and Ashley up the small stairs that would bring them to the huge doors and hopefully a way out and—

The ground rumbled beneath their feet as a wall rose in between them and their possible escape, another door with a carving, a man atop a horse wielding a spear on the left and a depression of a sort of three headed creature on the right, an empty spot that signified one of Leon’s least favorite types of puzzle— find the pieces and make them fit.

“Fucking asinine,” Leon spat, frustrated with the hurdles that had suddenly been dropped in their way. 

“There’s another door,” Chris told him, and Leon turned to see where the man was referring to. This other door was small and insignificant and grungy as all hell. Leon looked to Ashley and genuinely debated finding her somewhere inside the castle to hide permanently until Leon could solidify a way out because if Salazar wanted her alive and him and Chris dead, having her with them would just put her in more danger. But he also couldn’t justify leaving her alone with only a knife, and he definitely didn’t have time to teach her how to use a gun. Hollywood was a bunch of liars, it was a little more than just “point and shoot,” especially when facing down monsters that took more than just one clip to kill. 

“Ashley in the middle again,” he said as he strode to the door, taking point. He wondered if Chris hated him as point now as much as he’d hated it in Raccoon City. “If anything gets to me first, Sir, your priority is her. Double back and don’t let them take her.”

There was a pause before Chris grunted and replied, “Sure,” and Leon knew Chris probably didn’t mean it. Leave Leon S. Kennedy behind? That wasn’t the Redfield way. As Leon pushed open the door, he felt a smile dawning on his face and quickly squashed it down. So what if Chris still cared about him? He’d still been left and Leon was still upset. 

The door led onto a loggia, the night air making Leon shiver, and he told himself he wasn’t supposed to complain, but why did so much of this have to be outside when his fucking—

“Leon.”

Leon turned to Chris, ready to get on his ass for not focusing, when he saw Chris reach behind himself and pull out a wadded roll of fabric that he unfolded to reveal—

Leon’s jacket. 

Leon stared at it owlishly, plotting everywhere he’d been since coming here and when the jacket had been taken and how long ago that had been and coming up with absolutely no idea as to how Chris had gotten his hands on it. Nothing added up between how long ago it had been taken from him and Chris standing here now holding it in his giant hand, offering it to Leon because he’d seen him shiver. “You had this the whole time?” Leon asked, not taking the jacket yet because he just simply couldn’t.

“Killed the guy wearing it,” Chris replied. “It clashed with the rest of his outfit, real crime of fashion, I had to do the world a favor.”

Leon choked on a laugh and resisted the urge to kick himself for laughing at all as he snatched the jacket and pulled it on, the relief of the warmth immediate and surprising as he pulled it on and— well, this had been pressed up against Chris the whole time, hadn’t it? Leon wasn’t sure for how long, but long enough for body heat to leech into the leather. Leon was grateful the jacket had been through disgusting environments, otherwise Leon would be tempted to bury his nose in the wool and see if it smelled like Chris too, like a girl stealing her boyfriend’s jacket because of the lingering cologne and safety it exuded. Leon scowled at himself as he cuffed the collar and gave a gruff, “Thanks,” before moving on without another word. 

The loggia itself was empty, save a gaudy portrait of Lord Saddler the Giant Fuck-bag, a door with a woman’s face to the left that was locked, and a second room down the way that had lion statues spewing searing hot steam that they couldn’t pass beside a small table with a key and a note. Leon scanned it quickly and felt dread sink into his gut. 

“They’re going after Luis,” he told Ashley and Chris. “They say he took some sample when he also grabbed those vaccines for us.” He met Ashley’s eyes and saw the blatant worry he was feeling reflected in her. Even for Luis Sera’s ill-timed jokes, the man had been nothing but harmless and helpful. Lily-livered, but good in a fight, definitely not someone who deserved to be in this mess even if Chris had had a point in saying Luis was seeming more scientist than ex-cop. “Apparently this sample means a lot to them. They’re looking willing to ignore us for a bit just to get it from him.”

“So he’s in danger,” Chris said matter-of-factly.

“He’ll be okay, right?” Ashley asked, her hands to her chest, almost demure. “He helped us a lot. If we see him, we’ll help him too, won’t we?’

 _“Absolutely,”_ Leon and Chris said in unison. Chris’s ears went pink and Leon jerked his chin up, telling himself it was a fluke. “If we run into Luis again, I’ll wrangle him into staying with us. No point in splitting up, not when we’re mice in a maze.” Leon smiled at Ashley and held up his hand. “Scouts honor— we’ll keep him safe.”

“Good,” Ashley said. “Maybe we can get him out of here with us. And that merchant, Mr. Fish.”

That would be highly unlikely simply for the paranoia of the United States, but— “Redfield’s BSAA evac may operate separately from our own,” Leon thought aloud. “And since Spain is part of the United Nations, it’d be easier for him to get permission to get the two out of here.” He looked to Chris for confirmation, who only shrugged.

“I’ll do my best,” Chris hedged. “But with the situation as bad as it is, it maybe be a little early to make any promises, considering I can’t even guarantee my own survival.”

“I can,” Leon snapped. “Whenever we get our radios back, reach out to Valentine about Sera and Fish. Fish has already told me he doesn’t intend to leave, and I’m pretty sure he’s infected, but I’m not going to just leave a man behind without a fight.”

“Of course not,” Chris said. “But sometimes— sometimes, things happen beyond our control.”

Leon let out a single, sardonic chuckle and said, “You would know, huh?”

“Leon,” Ashley sighed, long suffering and annoyed. “I thought you called a truce?”

Leon pursed his lips, chastised. “This key probably leads somewhere useful,” he mumbled as he moved between Ashley and Chris, not looking at them. He went back to the first door, the woman’s empty eyes accusing him of acting like a child, and went inside when the gears unlocked and the door lifted itself up. The stench of mold hit him like a wall. Leon looked down into the dark fucking _dungeon_ and grimaced, seeing very little in the darkness but hearing breathing. 

“Wait,” he ordered as he pulled out the shotgun and began to creep down the steps. He reached the bottom and swept his sights along the floor, seeing a bell against the wall dungeon facing empty cells and one cell that _wasn’t_ empty, a huge man chained to the wall with a helmet covering everything but his eyes that were stitched shut. Leon approached the cell slowly, saw a mechanism beside the poor man, a lever of sorts, and knew he needed that. He was about to push open the gate when clunking footsteps descended behind him, Chris’s sharp whisper echoing too loudly, and—

The man in the cell suddenly writhed to life, yelling wildly and incoherently, breaking his bonds with a single thrust of his hands into the air as Wolverine-like claws the length of broadswords burst from the manacles that were covered his hands. He sprinted forward and Leon barely had time to leap to the side as the tortured man knocked down the cell door and charged into the dungeon, swinging its claws wildly. Leon watched it carefully, cataloguing everything, seeing it was blind and likely operated by sound, saw it stumble around like a clumsy child, and then saw the pulsing parasite on its back, like a beetle outside of its shell. Another obvious weak spot— this B.O.W. seemed damningly inefficient in its camouflage. Leon looked to the bell, knowing the piercing sound would do _something_ to this poor thing, and he’d just stay behind it and avoid the claws. 

Easy enough, no problem, but he still glared across the dungeon to where Chris was halfway down the steps and watching the thing thrash about. If that fucking idiot had just listened to him and stayed up top, this thing might not have woken up at all. Chris looked to him, looking ready to open his big mouth again, but Leon quickly made a cutting motion at this throat and then zipped his lips, telling Chris to shut up. For a moment, as Chris realized what exactly had happened, he looked guilty.

Then Chris set his jaw, brought up the MP5, and foolishly sprayed bullets into the charging man’s head. Leon uselessly covered his face with his hands as some of the bullets were reflected by the bad angle, the sound of the ricochet stopping Leon’s heart even when nothing hit him. He brought his arms down and was ready to shout at Chris for being so fucking idiotic when he saw the creature stop in its tracks and slowly turn, feet shuffling as it faced Leon and extended a clawed hand, the oddest noise emanating from the mask. Leon froze, stopped breathing, tried to be perfectly still.

“Leon, run!”

Oh god dammit, Ashley.

Her shout had the man turning and heading towards the noise, charging for the steps. Leon didn’t have a lot of time, the weak point was across the back, Chris wouldn’t be able to fire at it, so Leon dove for the bell that was against the wall of the dungeon and clanged it, the jarring sound making him worried for hearing loss even as the man threw his masked-head back and roared his fury at the ceiling, aborting his pursuit of Ashley and Chris to barrel towards the bell. 

Leon dove out of the way as the monster slammed into the metal and tried to tear it to shreds, exposing that twitching parasite to Leon’s riot gun. Four quick shots into the mass that screamed like it was a separate extension, and the man was writhing and screaming himself as tentacles burst from the parasite, disgusting little things that flung themselves about in the air, searching for Leon. Leon cringed at the sounds the parasite made before firing one last shell into the thing and watching it explode in a mess of puss and waste, the man slumping to his knees and falling onto his front and finally going still. Leon took a step back and breathed a sigh of relief, blowing his bangs from his face and looking up to Ashley and Chris to tell them it was safe, and—

Oh shit, Chris looked really pissed off. 

Chris stomped down the stairs and got in Leon’s face, shouting, “You aren’t supposed to be doing this shit alone, Agent!” and Leon knows he meant well but there was suddenly a limit to his vision and he’d just gotten out of a fight and Chris looked so fucking angry in a way Leon had never seen him before and there was that ringing of the bell in his ears still and the smell of cigarettes on Chris’s tongue and—

Chris stepped back, shock flashing across his handsome features before Leon could complete the full association between Chris and his father. _God,_ Leon was losing it. Chris wasn’t— Chris was the furthest thing from that man, Leon was just on edge and the infection was getting to him. Leon shook his head to bring himself back. “You— shouldn’t fight things alone,” Chris told him, his voice softer and more controlled. 

“It’s better if one of us fights these things at a time so there will always be someone left over to get Ashley home,” Leon argued. “Seeing as I’m infected, I’m the one who’s expendable.”

Chris made this awful noise in the back of his throat at the word “expendable” and Leon actually felt sorry for using it even though it was true. “Also, maybe if you’d listened to me and waited and actually shut up, I wouldn’t have had to fight it at all.”

Chris looked away because he knew Leon was right. Leon sighed heavily. “You’re doing that thing,” he murmured. “Underestimating me. I shouldn’t have to prove myself again to you.”

“You’re right,” Chris agreed. “You did a good job.”

Ah fuck, there it was again, that alarming warmth at being complimented at all. Why was Chris so free with his praise? He shouldn’t be telling Leon shit like that, Leon could always improve, he shouldn’t be given praise when there was so much he could have done better. Leon just gave a nod and jerked his head up to Ashley. “I’m gonna go pull that lever— see if you can see what it does.”

Chris went back up to the poor girl that was watching their exchange and Leon went into the cell, waiting for Chris’s cue to pull the lever. He yanked it down once Chris called out that he was ready and there was a noise of surprise from above. “Steam’s gone!” Chris declared. “We can move forward.”

“Fantastic,” Leon drawled to himself. Progress was progress, but it still felt like they were moving at a snail’s pace. He surveyed the dungeon one last time, looking for something he could have missed, when the sound rattle of MP5 fire had him darting up the stairs in a panic. He burst back into the loggia to see Chris laying dow fire at stumbling monks that were crumbling beneath the volley of bullets, Chris standing tall and fearless and putting them down without effort. Leon breathed easy and ran a hand through his hair, wanting to kick himself again for underestimating Chris just like Chris had been underestimating him. Again, Leon was proving to be one giant fucking hypocrite. “Nice shooting,” he told Chris just to demonstrate the animosity was gone for Ashley to see. Chris seemed surprised, but then he pulled on that stupid, shy grin that Leon hadn’t seen in six years, and Leon wanted to kill something.

“Let’s move,” he ordered as he tore his eyes from that grin and led them to the pathway they’d opened up. He pushed open the door beyond with some hesitancy, not liking all of these blind corners and entrances that could throw them into—

Another fucking fight, god dammit.

The room itself was registering as distantly gorgeous to Leon, large squares of water purely for decoration with huge columns that held bonfires atop them, sconces and velvet seats, tall columns of marble, just— beauty, but it was all offset by the priests that charged their way, shields up and maces swinging. 

“Ashley, behind!” Chris ordered as he stepped forward and stood at Leon’s side. “I’ll take left?”

“I’ll take right,” Leon affirmed, and he could do this, just another death funnel with a fellow soldier at his side and nothing more. It was easier to slug bullets into these priests, their painted faces and demonic whisperings registered cleanly in Leon’s head as “evil.” The steady rhythm of Chris’s weapon discharging beside him lulled him into a bloodthirsty state of calm, just the kick of his gun creating a duet of destruction with Chris. 

It was— surreal. To be fighting alongside Chris again. What had become as easy as breathing in Raccoon City was just as easy today and Leon felt like that was a sick kind of joke that he found himself wanting to laugh at regardless. For so long Leon had struggled beneath the weight of loneliness only to come out a lethal solo operative that didn’t need anyone, and yet here he was, sinking back into his partnership with Chris like he hadn’t been adjusting and adapting, he’d just been waiting for Chris to come back. It was almost insulting to the painstakingly built wall Leon had put up between himself and everyone. Six years of building it as high and wide as he could, and here Chris was, not even trying to be his friend, breaking it down anyways. 

Leon squeezed the trigger of the Samurai Edge, sent out the final bullet to bring down a priest, and wished again that Chris had never shown up at all.

The last of the priests fell, and the quiet surrounding was jarring. Chris was breathing heavily beside him, and when Leon glanced over, he—

Chris had actually changed a lot, now that Leon was looking. Aside from the physical, the hard lines and the change in his hair, there was something else in his eyes. A hardened look, cold like steel, a deadliness that hadn’t been there back in Raccoon City, when Chris and Leon both had been young and out of their depth, trying to do the right thing by their instincts alone. That Chris had been brave even as he shook with terror. This Chris was like a statue, unaffected by the lives he’d claimed and doing so with efficiency, a perfect soldier to the bone, and Leon realized that as he’d given Chris so much shit for Leon being in this for six years, Chris had been in the same boat. They’d both been fighting unwinnable wars and Leon had recklessly ignored what Chris had suffered and survived just so he could wallow in his own misery. Like a selfish little kid that couldn’t see past his own scuffed knees to the person that had broken a leg coming after them.

Then Chris turned to Leon and asked, “Are you alright?” and Leon slammed that wall back into place because fuck understanding that Chris had been in the same hell as him, Chris had made the decision for Leon and that had violated just about everything Leon had thought he’d shared with Chris. A partnership didn’t take freedom of choice away from the other regardless of well-wishing for safety. That asshole should have come after him because Sherry had sent the SOS and no one had answered the call for help.

That thought drove the nail into place.

Leon wasn’t the only person who’d been abandoned— Sherry had been too, and Leon wasn’t going to let anyone who slighted his daughter like that back into their lives. 

“You guys are kinda scary,” Ashley whispered from behind them.

“Scary good,” Leon replied without an ounce of mirth.

Ashley giggled and replied, “No, just scary.”

“I think we merit at least one good,” Chris chimed in, acting aloof so quickly after the firefight that Leon felt whiplash. “Split between me and Agent Kennedy, seems fair enough. Unless you think you’d do better?”

“You should see the arcade back at my hometown,” Ashley said, tossing her blonde hair back with faux-arrogance. “Every high score has my initials.”

“I’ll be sure to visit,” Chris hummed. “And make every single top score my own in record time.”

“Don’t you dare!”  
Chris laughed and swatted playfully at the girl. “You’ve got to earn your right to those top spots! What’s the fun in life without a little friendly competition?”

“Friendly is hardly the word for it,” Ashley shot back, but she was smiling so wide that all of her teeth showed and she looked like the kid Leon knew she was. Shit. Now Leon was almost grateful to have Chris here. At least he could help her forget the fear.

“We need to keep moving,” Leon said, settling for the bad guy role and interrupting their fun. “Hopefully we can run into Luis and get our hands on that vaccine he said he had for us.”

“Do you think it’s a cure?” Chris asked as he reloaded his MP5 and began to follow Leon, who headed deeper into the huge room, stepping over bodies. “If it’s a cure, then—”

“If it were a cure, I think Luis would have said so,” Leon interrupted. “He told me before that he couldn’t help us, not really. Whatever this is, it’s temporary. Still.” He looked over his shoulder, met Ashley’s terrified gaze and gave her a reassuring nod. “A little time is better than no time at all, and a little is all we need. There’s no way they’d sling around a time bomb like this without a defuser somewhere among them. There’s gotta be a cure.”

“It’d be foolish to play with fire without one,” Chris agreed. “And these guys seem psycho, but if Wesker really is involved, then there’s no way they’re actually running around blind. He has a hand in this. He’s keeping them to higher standards, I know it.”

“If Wesker is here at all,” Leon reminded him. “We don’t have proof of that.”

“Don’t need it,” Chris said. “I’ve got a bad feeling and— well, someone taught me to trust those for what they meant long ago.”

Leon’s spine went rigid even as he continued to walk like nothing had happened. They had a wall, Leon had built it, but, “Did it scar?”

“… Oh, absolutely,” Chris replied after a surprised pause. He probably thought Leon had forgotten or something. How could Leon forget? The sound Chris had made as he’d taken the bite meant for Leon— it still woke him up in a cold sweat. “Right there on my shoulder, you can count the teeth if you’re close enough. Still aches sometimes too when the weather’s bad, but I don’t mind it.”

“You have a scar?” Ashley asked as they headed into the back of the huge room into something small, the walls a pleasant blue even though the paint was peeling. “From what?”

“From the Raccoon City incident I was unofficially a part of,” Chris said. “I wasn’t paying attention and… one of my men almost paid the price. I got in the way, got the bite, got the scar, and I don’t regret it for the second.”

“Weren’t you part of Raccoon City too?” Ashley asked Leon. “That’s what my dad said.”

“I was,” Leon confirmed. “I was the man that Chris took the bite for.”

There was another quiet. Part stunned silence from Chris because he likely hadn’t expected Leon to admit to their history, and the other part being Ashley trying to connect the dots. Leon surveyed the room they were in, saw the puzzle for the simple thing it was and wondering what it would open. “If you guys were together during that,” she said slowly. “Why do you hate each other now?”

“I don’t hate Agent Kennedy.”

“I hate everyone,” Leon said, the embellishment being easier than the truth. “Ashley, you and Chris stand on that,” he ordered, pointing to the disgustingly neon yellow square on the floor of one corner of the room, the second being at the other side for him. He stepped on his square, squinted against the gaudy colors, and then waited for something to happen once Chris and Ashley stepped on theirs. He frowned when nothing in the room changed. “Okay,” he said slowly. “Anyone wanna make a guess on what that did?”

“I hate this shit,” Chris sighed. “Why do these people have such a raging hard on for puzzles?”

“It’s the only way they can prove their intelligence,” Leon said. “After all, it’s not like their genius plans are anything worth losing our shit over. Puzzles are all they’ve got. And even those are easy as kindergarten.” Leon actually smiled a little as he started to parrot, _”Oh, hey Lord Saddler, do you think they’ll notice these neon squares on the floor and think they’re for something important? No way, stupid Americans, can’t even read, give them a Sudoku.”_

“I’d prefer a crossword,” Chris griped.

“I’d argue that being too difficult for you, unless your vocabulary has improved?”

“I have a word of the day calendar,” Chris shot back. 

“Did Jill get that for you too?”

“Claire.”

Leon’s thoughts stalled. “Oh… how is she?” as he stepped off his square and resolved to figure out what puzzle they’d solved. “Is she still working with creating TerraSave?”

Chris seemed surprised. “You know about that?”

“I keep tabs on all of you,” Leon said with a roll of his eyes. “Rebecca in Illinois, you and David and Jill working with that O’Brian guy, Barry halfway retiring for his family, John fronting the opening of a new BSAA HQ in Africa. I know all about what all of you have been up to.” He shrugged a little. “Just wanted— to make sure everything was okay.”

Chris didn’t respond and Leon was glad he hadn’t. He went back into the main room and saw that an odd lever had come up from the floor between the four pools of water. “Wonder what this does,” he said aloud to himself as he approached the lever. His hand was hovering above the crank when doors flung themselves open and more of those fucking priests burst out, whispering demonically. “Shit,” Leon cursed, looking to the lever and knowing that they needed to get to wherever this led if they didn’t want to run out of bullets.

“You turn that!” Chris ordered, MP5 up and already firing. “I’ll cover you!” 

“How many of them are there?!” Leon asked no one as he turned the crank as quickly as he could, Ashley coming to help him, the spray of Chris’s bullets doing nothing to ease the panic in Leon’s chest. There were so many of them, he could hear the whispers, and all he could see was Chris’s back, so close and steady and protective, mowing down anything that came close. Then the crank was finished and a flight of stairs dropped down from a bi-level above. “Go, go!” Leon hissed to Ashley, darting back to Chris’s side to lay down some cover fire of his own. “Get up there with her, I’ll follow!”

Chris ducked away and Leon backed up, taking out the few he could. There were too many to count at this point, an obvious last ditch effort to keep them from progressing. And if Leon and Ashley and Chris were the secondary worry in this place, Leon was terrified for Luis. 

“There are more cranks up here!” Ashley cried out as Leon got to the second level, reloading he shotgun as Rot ran empty. “Leon, boost me up!”

“Go, Leon,” Chris said, cuing Leon to run to Ashley and get down on his knees, letting Ashley stand atop his shoulder and raising her up to the level above, the walkway surrounding this bi-level that seemed more like an aqueduct. Ashley ran for the first of two levers and Leon stepped back to where the floor was raised, leading to a chasm of water that they couldn’t cross by swimming for how high the ledge on the other side was. 

Leon felt panic lace through him as priests burst from doors along the aqueduct, heading for Ashley. Leon brought up the rifle. “They’re going for Ashley!” he shouted to Chris over the firing of the MP5. “I’m covering her, watch my back!”

“On you!” Chris shouted, and Leon breathed out slowly to make the shot, not even relieved when the head of the priest burst into blood and bone, only moving his sights to the next. He lost count of his own bullets as Ashely finished with the first crank that had brought up half a platform for them to cross the black water. She was running to the next and Leon was trying to keep his hands from shaking as the stakes were raised higher when Chris shouted, “Last clip!” and then the sound of Matilda firing moments later. Ashley pulled the crank as hard as she could, her expression through the scope just as fearful as Leon felt, and then, suddenly— that was it.

There were no more men on the aqueducts and Ashley had finished with the crank, the second platform up, and that was all there was. Leon let the rifle fall and breathed easily, not even hearing the priest running for him with a scythe until Chris all but screamed, _”Eyes up, Kennedy!”_

Leon dropped to the ground with his hands covering his head as Matilda’s gunshot rang and the priest dropped dead in front of Leon. Leon looked up, met gazes with Chris, saw the terror in the man’s eyes at how close Leon had come to death, and then saw the lone priest behind Chris, the final survivor, the one Chris wasn’t paying attention to because he was watching Leon. The swing of a mace being dropped to its full length had Chris’s eyes going wide, but he didn’t have time to turn around and they both knew it. 

Before he could think, Leon went low, dashing forward and grabbing the priest by the back of his robe to yank him away from Chris. The priest stumbled and Leon spun around on his heel, planting his feet behind the priest, looping his arms around the infected’s waist, and throwing him back with all of Leon’s might, suplexing the fucker’s skull into the ground before the priest could touch Chris. The satisfying crunch of a broken skull and snapped neck was like music to his ears. The body dropped away and Leon flung himself back up to his feet, eyes snapping to Chris to look him over for injuries and catching the open-mouthed shock on the man’s face once he was sure there wasn’t a scratch.

“What?” Leon asked sharply, realizing how much he’d given away by scrambling to Chris’s aid so instinctually. “You’re not the only one who’s hit the gym after everything.” Chris continued to gape and Leon cleared his throat, hating the flush that came to his cheeks. So what if he was more slight of stature than ripped like Chris? He could hold his own in a fight, easy. 

“Leon!” Ashley wailed his name like the world was ending and Leon tried not to wince at how piercing her voice could be when she wanted. He tore himself from Chris’s stupefied gaze and went to where she was waiting for him at the edge of the aqueduct, opening his arms for the girl to jump down. As she dropped into his arms, Ashley put her own arms around his neck and hugged him tightly for a quick second. “That was close,” she said as she kicked her legs out and stood on her own. “You have to be more careful!”

Leon tried to figure out where this girl was coming from that made her think she could tell him how to do his job. “Redfield has my back,” he told her confidently and hating it. “Don’t worry about us.”

“But if you’re infected—”

 _“I’m fine,”_ Leon snapped, interrupting her a little too harshly. He felt bad immediately as she cut her eyes away and looked to Chris instead of Leon. He sighed and wished he could have handled that better. “I’m fine,” he repeated. “I am. You’re the priority of this assignment, for both me and Chris. Don’t both worrying about me. I’ve been doing this for years. I’m fine.”

“Just because you’re fine doesn’t mean you’re okay,” Ashley argued, her tone strangled like she was close to tears. And Leon was really bad at handling a girl crying, his daughter aside. It wasn’t like he could treat Ashley like he would Sherry, when the little girl crying meant that something was definitely fucking wrong and he’d burn the world to fix it. Ashley crying was just a mystery. Was she crying because she was scared? Maybe Leon had hurt her feelings? Did she think she was as good as dead because Leon S. Kennedy was shit at his job and needed BSAA intervention? Join the club with that last one. 

He sighed again and tried to fix this. “I’m coping with this just as well as you are,” he told Ashley. “Infection isn’t exactly a walk in the park. We barely even know what this is, let alone how to cure it. But Chris Redfield is BSAA and the best there is,” and saying that with confidence hurt even more than the admission that Chris had Leon’s back. “Even if I fall, he’ll be there. He’ll get you home.”

Ashley turned sharply from Leon and all but stomped away, giving Leon the distinct impression he’d said the wrong thing. He groaned and tipped his head back to the ceiling, grumbling, “Women,” to himself under his breath. Chris stood beside him and gave him a sympathetic shrug. “Are you just as terrible with them as I am?” Leon asked, only realizing what exactly he was opening himself up to once the words were out of his mouth. But he was distinctly relieved and simultaneously pissed when Chris just shrugged.

“Wouldn’t know,” Chris said. “Haven’t dated anyone seriously in about six years.”

Leon snapped his gaze ahead. “We’re moving.” Ashley let out a noise of indignation that Leon ignored as he strode past her and leaped across to the first of the platforms Ashley had raised, then leaping for the next, and once more to reach the other side. He heard Ashley and Chris follow behind him, not waiting for them as he pushed open the tall doors.

Chris hadn’t—

Six fucking years.

This next room in the castle distracted him from the inexplicable rage that was building in his chest, the place a ballroom of sharp chandeliers and upside statues of broken women, a gothic style fun house worthy of the most insane of traveling circuses. The place was colder than the rest of the castle and Leon tugged at the jacket, honestly pretty grateful Chris had given it to him, but—

_Six fucking years._

Leon hadn’t gone that long, he’d managed four years before getting himself attached to a man that only proved to be one of his worst mistakes. But Chris— six fucking years, really? Leon almost couldn’t believe that. Being alone for six years, not even giving in— well, maybe Chris had fucked around. Maybe he’d had one night stands and he just didn’t even count them as real connections. Maybe Leon wasn’t the bad guy for having been with someone else.

No, Leon definitely wasn’t the bad guy. He’d been abandoned and he’d tried to move on. He’d done what he could to survive. Chris fucking Redfield had been the one to make the decision to leave Leon behind, so it was only fair that he’d made himself suffer, a prolonged punishment for taking the choice from Leon’s hands. It was only fucking fair that Chris be alone in some way to mirror how Leon had been alone. It was only fair Chris keep himself isolated in some way.

That’s what Leon told himself as he gripped his gun so tight the leather of his gloves creaked while he tried to force himself past the niggling thought that Chris hadn’t been with anyone else because _maybe he thought Leon was the only one for him._

Leon shook himself as he caught sight of Ashley glaring childishly at him. Jesus, he’d really said something wrong, hadn’t he? “I don’t like this room,” she told Leon matter-of-factly, as if he were the interior decorator who had made all of these shitty decisions. “I want to keep moving. It’s cold.”

Leon’s thoughts stalled for a moment before he started to pull his jacket off from his shoulders even as he wondered why Ashley didn’t just use that stupid sweater around her shoulders. He stopped with one arm out of the jacket when he heard Chris’s little noise of disagreement and Ashley’s sharp huff of disgust. “What?” he asked a little too sharply. “My shit not good enough? Does it need to be Prada?”

“You’re such an asshole!” Ashley spat and that seemed pretty harsh to Leon. He scowled and turned away, deciding she just needed some space to throw whatever panicked fit she was having. In some ways, it reminded Leon of Sherry. 

The thought hurt. Would he see Sherry before he died or would he be quarantined immediately and put down to be autopsied? Would the foster parents let her bury him or would the government handle it? Would they let her see his body? He hoped not. Sherry had lost more than enough family in her lifetime, she didn’t need to see another person she loved as a corpse. 

He was torn from the harrowing thought by the sound of Ashley coughing harshly. Leon turned back, heart pounding the second he saw the thin trails of bleed leaking between her nimble fingers. Her eyes went wide as she pulled back to stare at her hands, and Leon darted to her side, holding her shoulder and hating how small she felt, asking, “Are you alright?” Before he could even remind himself he was supposed to be giving her space.

“I’m fine, leave me alone!” Ashley knocked his hand away and sprinted ahead, reckless and stupid in her fear. Leon ran after her, reaching out, hearing Chris distantly shouting, and he was almost there, almost had a grip on her again when—

Spikes like something out of a horror film, spears of metal and blades, shot from the ground and piercing the ceiling, a wall of iron bars separating Leon and Ashley, the trap being so close that Leon could feel the displacement of air as the spears had pierced the stone above. 

“Shit!”Chris shouted suddenly from beside Leon. “Ashley, keep going!”

The girl stumbled back as another wall of spears jut into the air, and then another and another, corralling Ashley back against the wall at the other end of the hall. She cried out as she narrowly avoided the last of the spears, gasping for breath through her terror as Leon immediately started to look around for a way to bring the spears back down, tugging at the bars and searching for something to shoot, some mechanism to relate the trap, some—

Ashley shrieked again as three mechanical arms shot from the wall and wrapped around her at her shoulders, waist and knees, pinning her to the wall. Ashley met Leon’s eyes across the distance for one split second, a split second that let Leon see the sick and tired _despair_ in her young eyes before the entire wall that she was bound to spun like a top and she was hidden from sight in some awful unknown, the spears retreating back into the ground, satisfied now that their job was done.

Leon—

“We have to find her,” Chris said, immediately back down to business like he wasn’t actually worried about the girl and was only focused on completing his mission. A perfect soldier, a grunt, just some dick who had an assignment and completed it, fuck the casualties and the innocent victims, fuck everything but the job, _just like Krauser._ “If we can get to her before Salazar then we still might make it to evac in time.”

_“Who put you in charge?”_

Leon’s voice was so low and deadly that even he didn’t recognize it himself for a second. But whoever had spoken his words was right. Leon cleared his throat and repeated, “Who the fuck put you in charge?”  
Chris paused. “… Leon, I—”

“It’s Agent Kennedy.”

He turned to Chris and searched for that anger, hoping to let fury dawn on his face and make Chris as scared of what Leon could do just as much as Leon was scared of Chris, but found nothing. Ashley was gone and Chris was his replacement and Leon had fucked everything up again. There was nothing inside of him, even the rage of six years abandoning him just like everything else under the weight of his failure. So Leon let that emptiness show and saw that it seemed to scare Chris more than the anger. 

“It’s Agent Kennedy,” Leon told Chris again with a robotic deadpan. “And you— have no jurisdiction in this case.” He took a step forward, getting into Chris’s space, getting into his bubble, _his air_ , wasting precious time to say what Leon needed to say. “They sent you in because they thought I couldn’t handle this job, because they think I’m a liability after what Krauser did to me, they sent you because I’m just some wet behind the ears kid and you’re BSAA, but they were fucking _wrong._ I don’t need you. I don’t need anyone. I’ve been doing this for six _fucking_ years and now that I’m dying, all I need to do is finish out one more night and then it’s _over._ You’re not in charge of shit, _Sir_ , you’re not in charge of me, nor this op, nor anyone in this fucking country. You don’t give me orders. You don’t make plans. _You don’t fucking talk to me._ ”

Leon pulled himself away as his pulse hammered and his mouth went dry from how close he’d been to Chris and how he’d stared into those gorgeous brown eyes that had only ever made him feel safe and forced himself to feel that same nothing instead. “I don’t care what you thought you were accomplishing in coming to Spain because I don’t care about you or anything except for getting Ashley out of here.” He forced himself to also feel accomplishment at the pain that was ringing loud and clear in Chris’s face. “You follow my orders and you keep your fucking mouth shut, and once we’re out of here, I don’t ever want to see your face again.”

Chris shuddered a breath and said, “This isn’t fair, Leon, I—”

“No, what isn’t fair is you rearing your ugly head in my life once I was finally starting to feel okay!” Leon flinched at how loud his own voice was, but he couldn’t stop himself. “What isn’t fair is how you keep taking my free will away from me! You made the decision to leave me and Sherry behind and then you made the decision to come and find me and now you’re making the decision that I don’t have the right to defend myself from you in the only way I can!” He stepped close again as his hands start shaking. “You _ruined_ me, Chris!” and that was the truth, not Ada, not Krauser, not his parents, but Chris. Chris had been the one that tore through every defense mechanism in Leon’s body and made them useless. 

“I’m not your toy,” Leon choked out as his voice broke from the screaming. “I’m not anyone’s toy. I’m a person. Do you hear me?” He pointed to himself and tried to convince Chris that, “I’m a human being and a person and I’m not a toy. Stop taking things from me like you’re throwing away the old shit that doesn’t entertain you anymore. Stop making me your doll.” His expression twisted from that nothing to _hurt._ “I know how I look, _Sir,_ ” he whispered. “I just— I’d always thought you were the only person who saw me as an equal or even— maybe even more.” He shuddered out a breath and tore his eyes away so Chris wouldn’t see through him. “I was wrong. I’ve only ever been wrong.”

Leon wiped his eyes on the back of his wrist and then steeled his jaw. “You’re not in charge— I am. And you’re not saying another fucking word to me. Never again. Or I’ll put a bullet in you— for real.”

The screech of his communicator broke the tense moment, Chris unable to defend himself and Leon glad for the fact. He cleared his throat and forced himself back under his own control as he say, “Hannigan, what happened? The transmission got cut off.”

There was a horrible squeal of feedback before an aggravatingly familiar laugh and the face of a man-child dressed like a clown filled his screen. “Salazar,” Leon bit out. “How’d you—”

 _“We’ve jacked the line,”_ Salazar interrupted arrogantly. _“We didn’t want you telling anyone any unnecessary information.”_

“Where’s Ashley?!”

 _“Oh,”_ Salazar hummed. _“So she fell into one of our wonderful traps.”_ Leon cursed himself, pissed he’d just told the fucking enemy he’d lost track of the girl. _“We’ll make sure we find her,” Salazar assured Leon. “Don’t worry about her. And— oh yes. I let our miserable insects out for some exercise down in the sewer.”_

“Thanks,” Leon spat. “Better company than what I have now, and boredom _kills me._ ”

Salazar sneered. _“I looked forward to our next encounter… in another life.”_

The transmission ended and Leon shoved the communicator away, just so fucking empty and pissed off and tired at the same time. He jabbed an accusatory finger at Chris and said again, “Talk to me and I end you. I’m done being drawn in by false smiles and empty promises. You either shut up and follow me, or you leave.”

Chris looked like he wanted to cry. Leon promised his own thoughts that he didn’t care. Then Chris nodded and took a step back, letting Leon lead. 

Leon convinced himself that he was right where he wanted to be and pushed on, making himself think of Ashley and only Ashley and not the cruel man behind him that made decisions for Leon’s life like he was playing house.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :P :P :P :P
> 
> a lot happens in this chap nil i kinda forgot two very important plot points happened so closely together like god *damn* capcom slow down with those punches we can only handle so much 
> 
> i fucked up with a certain element that comes to play in here D: sorry i didn't mean to hope it doesn't seem too abrupt

Chris hadn’t spoken in what felt like hours and he wasn’t about to open his mouth any time soon. 

Into the sewers with invisible monsters, Luis’s memo found in the cell, the infection in Leon’s body finally having a name— Las Plagas— and then out of the sewers and into a swinging scythe death trap, bursting into a truly Satanic ritual with robed figures praying to a mass of flesh, this entire castle just an endless nightmare that was only made worse by the silence pervading them both, Chris torn between doing what was necessary for their survival or doing what was necessary for Leon’s peace of mind. 

It was hard to readjust to the way Leon fought. Back in Raccoon City, Leon had just been a rookie. Yes, a _damn good one,_ but still cherry, still getting his first taste of combat and the instinctual attachment a soldier had with the gun that they used to keep their self alive. Leon had been young and scared and talking had seemed to help in the moments it had allowed. He’d seemed to latch onto every word Chris said and never left him without a response or a reaction, laughing and playing along when he could, proving himself to be one of the bravest people Chris had ever known simply because he was able to laugh during the end of the world at all. 

And he’d been so _clean_ in that way that made Chris shudder to remember Leon was actually an abuse survivor. He’d been so trusting and willing to look for the good in anyone, prompting him to trust a mercenary disguised as FBI. Chris had trusted Ada a little himself, but Leon had made a point of sticking up for her, even against Chris’s argument. Leon has wanted to believe there was good in everyone and always a way to save the day without hurting someone else because Leon couldn’t stand to see anyone hurt like he had his whole life. Even taking out zombies had shaken Leon, the kid unable to see past the people they’d once been. 

Now Leon was all cool confidence and quiet death, his eyes shining their focus as he felled monsters and men without hesitation, a single minded entity thinking of his mission and only his mission and proving that he really didn’t need anyone anymore, let alone Chris Redfield, to hold his hand and guide him through hell. 

But god, when they’d brought out the fucking gatling—

Leon hadn’t been phased, and why would he? Six years of combat as USSTRATCOM Agent Leon S. Kennedy, he didn’t need someone to steady his sights and coach him through the shots, didn’t need Chris to help him fell monsters, he never really had to begin with. Most of the time, Chris had been a fucking bystander, watching Leon take on Birkin and the Tyrant and never being any real help. And it was right back to that, taking rear rather than point but managing to be just as useless, Leon taking all of the shots and hits and proving himself to be worth so much more than anyone had expected when they’d first seen Leon stumble his way through the Raccoon City Police Station, all wide eyes and innocence and steadfast need to do right by everyone. More than Lt. Branagh and Ada and Chris had expected combined. 

Chris knew now that his most fatal error would be to hold on to who Leon had been. The gentle Leon S. Kennedy from Raccoon City was gone. He’d been blown over and eroded away by the violent winds of time and war, become a weapon deadlier than any B.O.W.. The Leon before him was almost a different person and Chris needed to accept that in his heart and mind before he got Leon killed. After all, if there was one thing Chris Redfield was good at, it was sending the people he cared about to an early grave.

But Chris was good at one other thing— following Leon S. Kennedy to the end. Whether the end be the end of this op or the end of his own life, Chris wasn’t sure, but he was going to do it regardless. He’d done nothing but follow Leon all night, and he wasn’t about to stop. So he followed Leon in a huge ballroom and fought down the urge to stand in protectively in front of Leon when he heard that awful cackling laughter again.

“What a pleasant surprise!” Salazar exclaimed at seeing them both, his shadow stretching across him and Leon, towering above them from the upper level. Chris wished the fucker would come down off his balcony and face them at his real height instead of towering above like he was some archaic god. Salazar should try picking on someone his own size. “But I am afraid it’s Ashley we need,” Salazar sighed as he paced between his two robed guards. “Not you— Agents Redfield and Kennedy.”

“If you don’t need us, then get off our backs, old man!” Leon snapped, just as done with this fucker’s bullshit as Chris was. Then Salazar was gasping in dramatic offense and Chris fought the urge to roll his eyes.

“Did you say old man, Mr. Kennedy?” Salazar asked. At least he was getting Leon’s name right. “It might come as a surprise, but I am only twenty years old!”

Chris felt a vein come up in his temple as he struggled to wrap his mind around this psychotic fucker being younger than Leon, _the same age as Ashley._ How could one person go this crazy in such a short amount of time?

“So you’re just like all the others?” Leon challenged, obviously not thrown by the reveal like Chris was. “A puppet of the parasites?”

“Surely you don’t think I’m the same as those diminutive _Ganados_ ,” Salazar chided. “Those parasites— Las Plagas!— are slaves to my will!” Salazar leaned back slowly, wiggling his fingers in the air like a delighted toddler. “I have… absolute control.”

“Well I really don’t give a damn,” Leon snapped. “Rain or shine, you’re going down!”

Chris was slammed with overwhelming affection and it fucking _hurt._ After everything, after six years of abandonment and combat, a night of hell just before, and a lifetime of abuse preceding, Leon still delivered the worst fucking lines Chris had ever heard with the confidence of a man who knew right from wrong easy as breathing and Chris loved it. Chris loved _him._

The walls rose and the painted faces of more priests that were ready to try their hand at bringing down Leon S. Kennedy were revealed. Scythes and crossbows and maces, weapons of death, bloodthirsty expressions that had Chris and Leon both taking a step back to understand just how much trouble they were in.

Salazar waved his hand like Julius condemning a gladiator and said, “Get rid of our American friends.”

Iron bars fell over the doors, cutting off their exits, the cultist priests advancing with insane whisperings in another language, haunted eyes boring into Chris like precursors to the bullets he was going to put into them. And even as they faced down this overwhelming mob, Leon didn’t say a word to Chris as he brought up the Samurai Edge and stood his ground.

In all honestly, Chris was starting to be more afraid of Leon S. Kennedy than the enemies they faced in this castle. Especially when Leon instinctually killed his way through the small mob and discovered switches and levers that brought up a pedestal in the center of the huge room, retrieving a goat’s head carving and triggering the release of the bars, their problem solved before Chris could even fully catch on. He was left in awe of Leon’s intelligence and efficiency, but didn’t say a fucking word, even as his chest screamed for him to give praise.

_You’re such a perfect shot, Leon, you’re doing so well, Leon, you’re so fucking brave, Leon, you’re so fucking smart._

He’d spent two nights with the kid and learned the easiest way to make him smile was to tell him how good he was and now Chris couldn’t get a word out. 

So it was back to following— letting Leon lead him out of that death trap and onto a loggia, into the night, the moon shining, the—

Crows suddenly fluttered about and Chris stumbled back, a noise of instinctual terror leaving him before he could swallow it down. His gun was in the air, a wild shot going off before he could stop himself as the terror sprang from the deepest corners of his mind. The mad flapping of wings, the horrifying squawks, his friend Forest covered in stabs from those unforgiving beaks pecking into him like he was dinner, the rush of black in his vision, the sound of _death_ —

“Chris!”

Leon’s voice snapped through him, bringing Chris back to reality, to the crows that were only crows and nothing else, a single dead bird lying at his feet to prove the absence of infection. Leon was standing in front of him, expression panicked, his arm extended from where—

He was touching Chris, a hand on Chris’s bicep, the arm that was still holding the gun in the air.

_Leon had called him Chris._

“I’m fine.” Chris choked out the lie and tried to focus beyond the heat of Leon’s hand on him, the barest touch of skin from the tops of his digits. “I’m— fine. Waste of ammo. My bad.”

“What was that?” Leon demanded, his brow furrowed with severity. 

“Just some birds, Leon.”

 _“Don’t you fucking lie to me.”_ Leon’s scowl burned into Chris like a brand, but he knew the man was right. “Don’t keep me in the dark,” Leon insisted. “You wanna make me forgive you for the shit you’ve done? Start here. Stop _fucking_ lying to me.”

This terrifying man—

“In the Arklay mountains, in Spencer’s Mansion, there were crows,” Chris blurted out, unable to deny Leon anything, especially with that dangerous look in his eyes. “Infected crows in a countless number, I don’t know how I survived it. I found my friend, Forest Speyer, dead on the ground.” Chris wet his lips as he struggled to recall the memory he normally kept in the back of his mind. “There were so many holes in him that I thought he’d been stabbed by some sort of crazed riot. But it was the birds. They— overwhelmed him, tore him apart. I barely even recognized his face. It was just— gone.”

Chris looked to the sky where the crows were disappearing into the night, then to the single body at his feet. “He was my best friend in S.T.A.R.S.,” he told Leon softly, knowing that this was something he’d never told the man before. Chris had been so tightlipped about Spencer Mansion. Chris guessed he’d refused to talk about it for more than just his fear of getting Leon into the mess— he also just hadn’t wanted to think about it. 

“When he left with Bravo Team, I kept thinking about how I was going to ask him over for beers and a hockey game once the whole stint was over. I was thinking about how he owed me twenty bucks. And I was thinking about how— he was one of the best friends I’d ever had in my life.” Chris swallowed hard. “Then I found his body and all of that future I was planning was gone. The birds flew around me when I found him and tried to kill me same as they killed him. Now these things are here and I guess I just— got lost for a second.”

Leon went quiet for a second. Then, “Sometimes I get lost in the STRATCOM HQ back in DC,” he told Chris. “And one time, I got lost after hours.” Leon stared at the body at Chris’s feet while Chris struggled with the concept of Leon suddenly talking to him again. “It was dark. Raining. Lightning flashed outside a window, and for a second, I was panicking because I realized I didn’t have any more wood to board up the glass and keep the zombies out.” Leon smiled bitterly down at the dead bird. “Can’t take the kid from the fight, take the fight from the kid, right? That’s what they say.” Leon sighed and his shoulders heaved with it. “Could say the same for soldiers.”

“You’re more than a soldier.”

“You’re right,” Leon instantly agreed. “But a soldier is what I’m good at.” Leon finally looked up from the bird and narrowed his eyes at Chris. “And don’t you dare forget it.”

Chris nodded, throat dry. “On you,” he said automatically, and then winced when he saw Leon flinch. “You were fine with me saying that an hour or so ago.”

“It’s different when we’re about to die,” Leon argued, and wasn’t that a hell of an argument. “When we’re in a fight, it’s just two soldiers promising to watch each other’s back. But when it’s just us…”

Leon trailed off, but Chris knew what he meant. When it was said just between them, the words meant a lot more than an assurance of cover fire. He wondered if Leon had meant the words to the same extent Chris had every time he’d said them. “I’ll be more careful,” Chris promised, knowing he didn’t have a right to protest this rule of conduct between them. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Despite Chris’s efforts, Leon scowled. Chris wondered just how the fuck he’d gotten that wrong until Leon said, “Stop apologizing for the shit that doesn’t matter.”

Chris hesitated. “… If… it affects you,” he began very, very carefully. “If it affects you, then… It matters a hell of a lot to me.”

The scowl— died. Leon stared at him for a long moment, just looking at him without an emotion on his face. The look in his eyes made Chris’s hackles raise, knowing he was being judged or appraised and finding he didn’t like it all that much. It was Leon, yes, but Chris barely knew how this Leon would act or think anymore. He couldn’t predict him and his moods, and he knew a lot of that had to be because of the Plaga in his body, the threat of death making him erratic. Chris had seen many a man and woman succumb to Umbrella’s viruses, but it was always quick and brutal, hardly a moment to say goodbye. What was inside Leon had to feel like _torture._ It seemed to take hours to turn someone, and the process was gradual and painful, coughing blood and having the mind taken over. Chris couldn’t imagine the strain Leon had to be under, not only with the responsibility of Ashley, but also his slowly approaching death and now _Chris._

The thought set Chris’s jaw, and he stood tall beneath Leon’s sharp gaze. Even if he felt like Leon wasn’t exactly a friend in the way he was looking at him, Chris refused to be afraid. He wanted Leon to know that he had Chris’s loyalty, their shaky past be damned.

Leon stared a moment longer. Then he looked to the body at their feet and nudged it aside. “The plaga so far has only infected dogs,” he told Chris. “Wolves, specifically. A there was a dog that remained untouched. I’m not sure the plaga can fit inside such a small carrier. I don’t know what size it is when it’s injected, but it seems to grow to at least the size of the host, maybe more upon final stages of infection and mutilation of the body. The birds here should be harmless.” Leon met Chris’s eyes again. “You good?”

“Yeah,” Chris breathed, genuinely relieved that Leon knew to reassure Chris like this. “I’m good.”

Leon nodded stiffly. “I’m sorry about your friend.” Then he turned away from Chris, leading him through the loggia without another glance back. Chris tried to steady his hand on his MP5 as he followed Leon, the loggia leading up to a huge stone deck with arching columns and an ornate fountain, the night air even more piercing from up this high. Chris kept his peripherals on the sky, wary of anymore birds. Distantly, it hit him that he could have shot Leon with how panicked his reaction had been.

Chris stopped dead in his tracks.

_He could have shot Leon._

“We need to keep moving,” Leon said from up ahead when he realized Chris wasn’t behind him anymore, and he noticed pretty quickly, too. Leon was barely a few extra steps ahead of him. He had to be keeping track of Chris just as much as himself. When Chris didn’t respond, still lost in the horror of knowing that single bullet could have gone into Leon rather than the bird, Leon approached him cautiously, calling out, “Sir?”

“I’m not good,” Chris stated bluntly. 

“Jesus,” Leon said. “Why not?”

He sounded impatient, but Chris couldn’t blame him. They really did have an assignment to complete, and Leon was on one hell of a time crunch, the Plaga a ticking clock slowly overcoming his individuality. And god, Ashley— that poor girl had to be so scared, locked away in a castle, surrounded by psychotic infected and madmen. They needed to find her. Chris looked at Leon and thought of this man crumbled on the floor rather than the bird, and then forced himself past it. If he kept losing his shit over Leon’s every little thing, Leon wouldn’t be dead on the floor— he’d be trying to kill Chris himself with red eyes that didn’t recognize him. “It’s fine,” Chris said after he’d effectively terrified himself into moving past the guilt of his blunder. “I’m low on ammo. You?”

“Got barely a thing,” Leon admitted grimly. “Maybe Fish will be down here somewhere.”

“It’s a dumb name, isn’t it?”

Leon made a face. “I gave it to him.”

Shit. “Never mind,” Chris said quickly. “It’s— fun?” Leon gave him the stink eye, and he winced. “Unique? Memorable?”

“Shut up,” Leon huffed. “I’m great at naming things.”

“Matilda isn’t that great.”

“Matchelangelo was.”

Chris grinned as he remembered the flamethrower, wishing he’d kept the damn thing. “Obviously you lost your spark,” he tried to tease. “You still naming things even now?” He looked over the arsenal Leon had at his disposal, genuinely curious, taking advantage of Leon talking to him. “Those got any?”

“Only one of them,” Leon said. He held up the Samurai Edge and smiled stiffly. “Rot.”

Chris stared at his gun— Leon’s gun now— and— “Rot?” he repeated slowly. “That’s… a name.”

“I like to think it’s poetic.”

Leon’s voice was a sneer in its own way at this point, and Chris suddenly wished he hadn’t tried to push the topic. Naming the Samurai Edge fucking “Rot” of all things. Now he knew there was no way he was coming back from what he’d done to Leon. Not that he deserved to regardless. It just ached to know how deeply Chris had slaughtered Leon’s psyche. 

“We’re moving,” Leon ordered. He didn’t wait for Chris to agree before he was stomping away, his shoulders tense and body language indicative of a man looking for a fight. He was probably pretty angry now. God, _Rot._ What an ugly word. 

Leon pushed through a set of tall, oak doors, revealing a hedge maze beneath them, an ornate twist of garden shrubbery and gates with a pedestal in the center that displayed a naked woman holding a basin above her head that overflowed with bubbling, clear water. The night air was clear and cold around them and a soft glow emanated from various spots throughout the maze, gentle light rather than the hungry gold of fire. It was actually almost beautiful, but Chris knew he shouldn’t be deceived. If anything, this was designed to catch them off guard.

There was a screech from Leon’s communicator, and Leon glanced to Chris with a grim expression before lifting the device to his ear. 

_“Mr. Kennedy,”_ Salazar greeted. _“Still alive, I see. So— do you like my garden? Rather romantic, if you ask me. I’m sure you and your companion can waste away here and never notice a passing second.”_

“I see you’ve managed to work in a little of your twisted taste here too,” Leon said, ignoring Salazar’s quip, a quip that had Chris on edge. No one should know about his relationship with Leon, past or present. But that guy sounded like he knew something he shouldn’t.

Salazar cackled. _“Sagacious as I am, even I get lost here sometimes. Even if it takes your whole life, you’ll never get out. Do you know that no one dies without a cause?”_ Leon made a face of bewilderment at the question and looked to Chris, both of them pretty fucking stunned at how idiotic the statement was. _“You will satisfy the stomach of my cute pets! Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to tie up a few loose ends. Like chasing down a couple of rats.”_

The transmission ended, but—

“Two rats?” Leon sounded confused now, looking to Chris again. “If one’s Luis… who’s the other? There an intruder besides us?”

Chris thought of Fish’s words to him, of the people in a graveyard he would encounter tonight. Should he— “Fish said I’d be meeting some ghosts of my own,” he told Leon. “Maybe he knows something?”

“Funny,” Leon said. “Fish actually told me about you before you even showed up.”

“By name?”

Leon shook his head. “Just said ‘player three has enter the game.’ I had no idea what he meant, honestly. And then…” Leon frowned, looking over the maze. “There was a woman. A lady in a red dress. She saved my life and I have no idea who she is, but I feel like… I recognize her from somewhere.”

Chris grimaced. He could easily surmise exactly who Leon seemed to think the woman was. God, did Leon not know? “Ada Wong is dead,” he lied, praying the last source stating Ada was ages away in Scandinavia would hold true.

Leon’s head snapped to him at the sound of her name, making Chris suspect that Leon wasn’t nearly over Ada Wong like Chris had hoped he would be. The unfortunate reality of the situation was that Ada Wong was alive and well and working with Wesker. Chris knew that Leon had been attached to the woman, spy or not, and he wished he could say she’d died nobly, but that wasn’t the case. She’d been spotted around the world in relation to Wesker and it wasn’t looking like she was working with the good guy’s. Chris would rather lie and say that she was dead than let Leon know the extent of her sins. “Whoever it was, we’ll handle it,” Chris told Leon firmly. “For now, we gotta figure this shit out.”

Leon nodded. “I supposed my suggestion for you stay up here and direct me from above is going to be ignored?”

Chris paused. “Are you actually giving me the choice?”

Leon made a face. “I— guess I am.”

“Well, you know my vote. Don’t split up.”

“Funny,” Leon said with a scowl. “Pretty sure you did that six years ago.”

Chris’s expression became solemn as he spoke softly. “And look how badly that turned out.”

Leon went very quiet.

“I’ll follow you into the maze,” Chris said once he realized Leon wasn’t going to speak. “I’ll watch your back. Too many tight corners, you know? And that gremlin said something about his cute pets. I can’t imagine what we’re going to find down there after his invisible locust in the sewers.”

“Could have been worse,” Leon said as he went down the steps into the maze, not letting Chris see his face. “Could’ve been an alligator.”

Chris was going to get a head injury from Leon’s tumultuous emotions. Up and down, everywhere at once, no way to predict it, and god, Chris couldn’t blame him. Dying slowly did scary things to a man. Chris brought his gun up and resolved himself to at least keep Leon safe so the man could sort through his thoughts and find some sort of peace. And then, once they found the cure and Leon was free of the Plaga, then they could maybe reach some sort of genuine truce, and not the paltry thing they’d made for Ashley. There was too much raw hurt between them to be fixed so easily. 

The maze turned out to be more of a nuisance than a threat, though Chris didn’t miss the flinch in Leon’s body every time he put a bullet in the infected canines that pursued them. Chris was drawn back to the precinct garage, the Doberman that had nearly taken out Leon’s throat. How close it had come to Leon being killed right then and there, and if Ada hadn’t shown up—

Why was Chris suddenly thinking of Ada so much now? He hadn’t given her a second thought in years. Maybe Leon’s same paranoid correlation with something as simple as a red dress in an apocalypse was rubbing off on him. Whatever it was, Chris— had a bad feeling.

Leon collected the two pieces of the moon and handed them off to Chris before they made their way back through the maze, Leon decidedly silent again. Chris didn’t take it personally, especially since he seemed so shaken with every dying yelp the beasts made. He hadn’t known Leon to be a dog person before this, but it was honestly the least disconcerting change in the man. He wished he could be point so Leon wouldn’t have to be the one to put the dogs down.

They broke from the maze, Leon taking him to a door that called for the two pieces they’d found. Leon pushed it open to reveal a gothically decorated hallway, much like the rest of the living interior of this place, gaudy and mismatching for the sake of wealth. A blue throw rug on a red floor with black and white walls? Chris didn’t know a lot about interior decorating, but he was pretty sure he’d claw his eyes out if he had to live in a place looking like this every day.

Leon went in first, scoping the place out, getting down one end of the hall while Chris checked the second way. He was so busy sighting out the corners that he didn’t notice someone else was in here with them until he heard the click of a safety being drawn and a sultry, female voice telling Leon to, “Put your hands where I can see them.”

Chris whirled around and saw a ghost. 

“Sorry,” Leon said, aloof, buying time. “But following a lady’s lead just isn’t my style.”

The gun was lifted and pressed in between Leon’s shoulder blades. “Put them up _now._ ”

Chris shoved the muzzle of his MP5 into Ada Wong’s back, deja vu washing over him like rain. “Lower it,” Chris ordered sharply, feeling a sense of pleasure when she stiffened. She hadn’t known here was here— just like last time. And then, because Chris couldn’t resist, “Gonna need some ID, _agent._ ”

Leon whipped around quick as lightning and snatched Ada’s gun away, twisting Ada’s arm behind her back. Ada brought up her leg quickly, kicking the gun from Leon’s hand as she somersaulted away. Chris stepped back, watched Leon recover quickly as Ada flipped through the air for her gun, Leon pulling out a rather gorgeous knife and holding it to Ada’s neck just as she landed on her feet, the gun pointless now that Leon had her at the edge of his blade. Ada froze and Chris kept his sights on her head, the woman’s eyes darting between them from beneath those damned sunglasses. 

“Bit of advice,” Leon said, his face far too close to Ada’s for Chris’s liking. “Try using knives next time. Works better for close encounters.” Leon took the gun from her grip and ejected the clip, tossing the empty weapon to Chris with fluid grace as he walked away from Ada entirely.

Ada took a step back. “Boys,” she greeted almost casually, taking off the sunglasses. “Long time no see.”

Leon looked— stunned. Had he really not recognized her? “Ada,” he said, the name coming out breathlessly. Leon glanced to Chris, and— he looked a lot like the kid he’d been back in Raccoon City for a split second. God damn this woman.

“So it’s true,” Chris said, glaring at the woman.

“True?” Ada was playing coy, watching Leon more than Chris again, her sights always on the blond because she thought he was weaker. If only she knew how wrong she was. “About what?”

“You,” Chris bit out hatefully. “Working with Wesker.”

Leon’s sharp intake of breath barely brought Chris’s attention away from the dangerous woman. She dropped her sunglasses to the ground, saying “I see you’ve been doing your homework. Wouldn’t expect any less of the fresh and virile BSAA.”

“Ada,” Leon whispered. “Why?”

“What’s it to you?”

“Why are you here?” Chris demanded. “You didn’t need to show your face. Why’d you show up like this?”

Ada let out one of her infuriating little laughs, a noise that said she thought she was better than them, before a high pitched noise came from the floor and the room was suddenly flooded with white light and smoke, Leon and Chris both flinching to cover their faces. Ada dropped and rolled away, snatching her empty gun from Chris’s hand while he was stunned. She fell back to the window, looked to them with a smirk, and said, “Seeya around, boys,” before leaping out into the night.

“Ada!” Leon shouted, running to the window but being too late. She was gone and Leon was left standing at the window, shellshocked. And then, “You lied to me.”

Chris took in a breath. “I know.”

“Why?”

“Because you thought she died doing the right thing. I didn’t want you to know the person she’d become. Or always was. Not if I could avoid it. And she wasn’t supposed to be here.”

Leon’s hands tightened into fists. “There you go again,” he murmured. “Keeping me in the dark to keep me safe.”

Chris looked away. “I have no excuse. It’s wrong to do. But I’ll do it anyways.”

_”You fucking asshole.”_

Chris could hear the tears in Leon’s voice and hated them. “Call me whatever you want,” he told Leon. “Curse me, hate me, point _Rot_ at me again and pull the trigger for real this time. I will never stop trying to protect you.”

Leon spun around suddenly, that knife coming up and pressing to Chris’s neck before he could blink. Leon’s eyes flashed red, inhuman and terrifying, and Chris stumbled back, fearing for his life. Leon pushed him back with the blade sinking into Chris’s flesh, breaking the skin, Chris could feel the warm blood trailing down his jugular, and then his back was hitting the wall. Leon’s eyes were still burning bright red and his teeth were bared, snarling like a monster, and Chris choked out Leon’s name, a broken whimper, and—

Suddenly Leon was throwing himself back, knife dropping to the floor, eyes wide and _blue_ as he gasped for air. “Oh god,” Leon whispered, staring at Chris’s neck. “Oh god, what have I done?”

Chris covered the cut on his throat with his hand, still reeling from what had just happened, watching Leon with genuine fear. “Out of control” didn’t even come close to describing Leon anymore, and Chris wasn’t sure what part of that anger had been Leon and what part had been Plaga. The empty click of Leon pulling Rot’s trigger echoed in Chris’s head as the blood made his fingers slippery. The cut wasn’t deep, didn’t even need a bandaid, but the action itself had been more of a death sentence than the blade. 

But—

Chris took in a few more gulps of panicked air before asking, “You back with me?”

“I’m so sorry,” Leon babbled helplessly. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I don’t— know what happened, I don’t, I didn’t, I—”

Leon looked up at Chris and it was like Chris had been thrown back in time, no longer seeing the terrifying killer Leon had become and instead looking into the face of the scared young man that had gone solid like a rock when Chris had first put his arms around the kid and hugged him. The broken child that didn’t know why his parents hated him or how Umbrella could hurt people so recklessly. The Leon in front of Chris now was the same Leon he’d been six years ago and Chris was stupid to think otherwise. Leon was still just as afraid as he’d always been.

“Can I touch you?” Chris asked softly. 

A dry sob tore itself from Leon’s throat as he nodded, Leon’s hands going into his hair to pull at the locks like he wanted to hurt himself as his body curled over. Chris strode forward and took Leon by his broad shoulders, yanking Leon into his chest. Leon didn’t fight it, didn’t try to limit the touch to something neutral, he just sunk into Chris and trembled apart, his body twisting in Chris’s grip like he was in pain. Then Leon’s hands came up Chris’s back to fist his fingers in the shirt as he whispered, _“It hurts,”_ and Chris felt sick to realize that it _was_ pain. 

He held to Leon tighter, lowering him gently to the floor so Leon’s shaking legs didn’t have to keep him up. He felt Leon’s body lurch as the kid started to cough, and warmth bloomed across Chris’s shirt. He was scared to look down and see the blood he knew would be there as Leon’s lungs rattled with the coughing fit. Chris just held on tight and refused to let Leon be alone as the man’s body succumbed to the pain, wracked with the force of the fit. “I’ve got you,” he whispered into Leon’s ears as more blood stained his shirt, the BSAA globe on his lapel likely splattered with red. He ran his fingers through Leon’s hair and buried his face in the top of his head. “I’ve got you, let it out.”

As Leon writhed in his arms on the floor, Chris swore to himself that he was going to kill Saddler.

It took ages for the coughing to subside, and even then Leon didn’t move from Chris’s arms. He breathed raggedly, a violent rise and fall of his chest that Chris could feel better than his own heartbeat. Leon was recovering slowly and Chris was willing to give him all the time he needed, Ashley and the rest of the world be damned.

Days or hours or seconds later, Leon finally got out a single word, just, “Sorry.”

Chris shook his head. “You have nothing to be sorry for. This isn’t your fault.”

Leon just shuddered one last time before his hand weakly came up between them and he pushed himself away from Chris. Chris didn’t fight him, let Leon take the distance he needed. He was floored that he’d even been allowed to touch Leon at all, let alone hold him through the episode. God, he needed the Plaga out of Leon immediately. “Luis said he had something to stop the convulsions, right?”

“Can’t hinge all our bets on a single man,” Leon rasped. With Leon further away from him, Chris could now see the bright red blood that was smattering Leon’s mouth like lip stain, the color harsh against his pale skin, wet and glimmering. “God, that hurts,” he said. “Can take a hit, take a bullet— can’t cough up my lungs, though, gotta draw the line.” Leon tried to stand, his legs understandingly wobbly. “I’ve wasted enough time,” Leon said, sounding like he was pissed at himself. 

“We should rest,” Chris insisted.

“Fuck you,” Leon replied mildly, wiping the blood from his mouth with the back of his gloved hand. “Just— god. Fucking lying to me about Umbrella was one thing, but Ada? She’s a mercenary, Chris! Not knowing could have gotten me killed!”

“She’s under control.”

“She just fucking swing-danced her way in here and put a gun at my back!” Leon argued, his voice raised and cracking tellingly, the duress of the coughing fit having done a number on his throat. “If I had been anyone else, she could’ve fucking killed them! She could have done that to Ashley and killed her! You’re holding shit back and the only reason it doesn’t take lives is because it’s always me who gets the brunt of the backlash and I’m too fucking stubborn to die like that!”

Chris wanted to punch something. “She’s under control,” he repeated even though he knew Leon was right. Every time his secret keeping got someone in trouble, it was Leon, because Leon was the only one who he kept secrets from. Chris was just lucky Leon was good enough to keep himself from getting killed. But Chris had meant what he’d said before he’d had the knife to his throat. He would never stop trying to protect Leon and it was definitely going to get one of them killed someday. “The BSAA is going to take her in, along with Wesker and whoever else is working for him. There— wasn’t a reason to hurt you with the reality of her situation.”

“You sound like you think I kiss the ground she walks on,” Leon told him with a scowl. “She’s a bad person, alright? I knew that then and I know that now. Just because I was too naïve to be as paranoid as you right off the bat doesn’t mean I don’t know how to fucking learn from my mistakes. Something you should probably give a go at, don’t you think?”

Chris grit his teeth. “I deserve that.”

“Yeah,” Leon replied as he swiped a hand through his hair and pulled out the Mauser. “You really do.” Leon left abruptly, stalking away without a shake to his step, obviously really fucking pissed, so angry that the aftermath of the coughing fit did little to waver him. Chris didn’t know how to fix that or if he even could, if he even _wanted_ to. If ensuring Leon no longer hated him involved letting Leon get hurt— but god, he was getting Leon hurt anyways, wasn’t he? Chris didn’t know what to do except follow the man.

They moved quietly into the next room, Chris wondering if Leon wanted to settle back into the silent treatment. It honestly seemed fair, especially after the stalemate they’d reached. Chris’s neck stung, and he was somehow grateful to be behind Leon, because that meant he wouldn’t end up with a knife in his spine if the Plaga suddenly overtook Leon again. He also wondered how that had felt. To lose complete control of his own body, to become a monster, if only for a moment. Chris wondered if it was scary or if Leon even could feel in those moments. He wondered if Leon was even aware it was happening until it was over.

He also wondered where the actual fuck Salazar got so many men to throw at them like cannon fodder. It was a slaughter and Chris found himself struggling with genuine _pity_ as they mowed down the small army Salazar seemed to have at his disposal. The archaic weaponry, bringing a knife to a gunfight. The knife argument only won if it was Leon with the blade, this was just insane. There was blood everywhere, covering the floors and the walls, and Chris wondered if it was always like this for Leon.

Whenever Chris went on an op, he had a team, a good set of men and women that were harsh and liberal with their bullets, and it was just sweep one room, then the next, heads down, don’t look, don’t hesitate, move on to the next. Everyone took their shots and no one counted how many hits they made. 

With Leon, though, it took longer. Countless enemies between two men, the sound of their screams and the echo of gunfire. Bodies piling up and there were still more to add. Chris felt his mind fraying a little at the edges simply out of exposure. Was this what Leon always came to do? Just one or two people against an army, taking them apart bit by bit, forced to witness each death on an individual level? They were bad guys, yeah, they were half monster, but having such human faces, paint or not, so close and watching his bullets tear into each and everyone one, unable to play down the numbers because he didn’t have a team to wipe out their own share, it was just him and Leon—

He didn’t know how Leon was in one piece. How he could do solo or single partnerships only for him to be alone an op later. Chris didn’t know how to function without a team, without at least someone who he’d known for years to watch his back. Chris doubted Leon had that in USSTRATCOM. He remembered scanning the report that had come from David to him, describing Leon as missing and the fact that he’d been sent in here with no body armor and ten bullets. Just— how had he survived this long? Talented or not, a human had their limits. There wasn’t enough energy in the body, wasn’t enough sanity for the constant adrenaline, not enough time to take out so many monsters with one gun. It didn’t make mathematical sense, and yet here Leon was, still standing after six years of this shit.

As Chris mowed down three more of these infected, he found himself in awe of Leon and wished he could have been there to keep that dead look in Leon’s eyes that took over every time Leon killed from existing at all. He— wondered if he could get Leon into BSAA. 

The last body hit the floor and Leon seemed to breathe a little easier. “I’m seriously low on shit,” he told Chris, surprising him. “Just a few shells for the shotgun, one for the rifle, three for Rot. What have you got?”

“Next to nothing.” They’d been able to scrounge up enough bullets to keep themselves alive, but their luck of finding just the right kind of ammo was going to run out soon, Chris could feel it. “Where’s Fish when you need him?”

“Probably being omniscient to someone else,” Leon griped. “Maybe chatting up Salazar.” 

“You don’t think Fish is an enemy, do you?”

“I don’t think he’s really the kind of guy to draw a moral line between good and evil.”

“You think he sells to whoever’s willing to buy.”

The next room they entered was a deep maroon and unsettlingly normal. There was a pedestal in the center that had a red chest atop it and only one door at the other end, their obvious exit. Leon frowned as he skirted the corners of the room, just as paranoid as Chris for how quiet this place was compared to the bloodbath of before. “This is too easy,” Leon whispered. He edged to the door and tried the handle, finding it locked. “Ah,” Leon hummed softly. “That makes sense.”

Chris huffed. “You think the guy who designed this place jacked off onto the blueprints after?”

He glanced over, saw the corners of Leon’s mouth twitch upwards just the barest amount, and wished he could make sense of the other man’s moods. “I’m gonna pretend you didn’t say that,” Leon told him. “We need to find the key.”

Chris went back to the door they’d come through and found it locked as well. He grimaced and looked to the pedestal, knowing a trap when he saw one. But they didn’t really have much of a choice. “I’ll go check out what’s behind door number one,” he told Leon. 

“I’d rather I spring the death trap,” Leon admitted. “I’ve nearly be squashed by a boulder twice tonight— can’t imagine what they have in mind for us here.” Leon looked to the locked door, still frowning. Then he brought his sights up and nodded to Chris. “Do it. On you.”

The words froze the air in Chris’s chest, but he ignored it, reminding himself of the distinction they’d made and the vital purpose it served. He gave Leon a nod of affirmation and crept towards the chest as silently as he could, which wasn’t all that silently, but he tried regardless. He reached up cautiously, wary of the floodlight shining down on the chest and just how fucking obviously this was a bad idea. He hovered his hand over the latch of the chest, took in a deep breath, and pulled it up.

A steel cage dropped from the ceiling, locking Chris in. He snapped to the nearest wall of bars, sights up, eyes going wide when a figure dropped from the ceiling, one of the same tortured men that Leon had killed in the dungeon. The face was covered with a metal mask and the eyes were stitched shut, metal covering the hands with claws over a yard long extending. Leon had made quick work of the guy using the space available and the piercing bell. Chris was in a tiny fucking cell and no way out because as he looked around quickly for an exit, he saw that the door into this cage was locked tight.

He always saw Leon throw himself at the other end of the cell, pulling uselessly and staring at Chris with unabashed terror. And Leon was holding out the shotgun through the bars. 

Chris darted forward, rolling beneath a wild swing of the blind monster, slamming into the end of the cell Leon was at and taking the shotgun. “Stay behind me,” he ordered. “I don’t want you getting caught in the blast.” Chris turned around and faced the beast before he could see Leon’s response. “On me!” Chris snapped before falling to the left, dropping beneath the flailing monster whose claws scraped the bars and created sparks. Chris got back to his feet behind the thing, saw the wiggling parasite on its back, but didn’t fire. A few precious seconds later, the man was turning, but—

“Clear!”

Chris pulled the trigger and relished the satisfying shriek of the monsters and the parasite. This could work. They could do this, easily. Chris moved from one end of the cell to the other, keeping quiet enough so that the blinded man wouldn’t turn and wait for Leon’s call that he was out of the blast radius. The tortured monster couldn’t keep track of them, especially when Leon started catching on, making a racket on the cell bars before retreating behind Chris. The poor thing didn’t stand a chance and every scream of the parasite, the spray of puss like blood, was slowly becoming harrowing as Chris realized that this was not a fair fight, monster or not. The last of the five shells went into the spine and the Plaga and the tortured man dropped to the ground, dead.

Chris suddenly didn’t feel very good about it.

“Jesus,” Leon breathed behind him. Chris glanced over his shoulder and watched Leon run a shaking hand through his hair. “God, I hate being on the other side of things like this.”

Chris snorted a mirthless laugh. “You think this is bad,” he said. “Try to imagine how I felt every time Birkin singled you out.”

“I had it under control.”

“You did,” Chris agreed. “Doesn’t mean I don’t worry.”

“What, like how you lie to me?”

Chris tightened his grip on the empty shotgun. “Sometimes fear for others is harder to overcome than fear for your own life. It triggers something inside of you that’s deeper than instinct. Something you can’t possibly hope to control.”

“… Try the chest again, Chris. We need to keep moving.”

Chris nodded and went back to the pedestal, opening the chest completely. As the lid fell back, the bars suddenly retracted back into the ceiling. Leon let out an unhappy grunt as Chris pulled a key from the bottom of the chest and held it up. “I’m gonna have to change my mind,” Leon told him. “That architect was probably getting himself off _hard_ on his own shit.”

Chris had to turn his head away and grit his teeth to keep from smiling. Leon took the key, careful to keep their hands from touching, and went to the door. “On me?” Leon asked carelessly, checking if Chris was ready to go.

Chris nodded again, trading the shotgun for Matilda. “On you.”

Leon unlocked the door and led Chris into the next room, a sweeping ballroom they overlooked from the balcony. Chris wondered just how many fucking ballrooms one place needed and who they thought they could entertain. Everything in this castle was well maintained and cleaned. Did the priests have a janitorial staff or were they just kind enough to clean up after themselves? Chris was so used to grungy, destroyed wreckages of architecture that he felt like he was stepping into some Twilight Zone with how clean everything was despite the carnage of the situation. 

Leon winced as he peered over the balcony, seeming a little offset by the lack of enemies. “I’ve got a bad feeling.” And that wasn’t good.

The door they’d come through suddenly opened, and Chris whipped around with his gun up, only to lower it back down the second he saw Luis Sera. The man caught sight of them, eyes lighting up in particular when he saw the blond. “Leon!” Luis called out in excitement. He held up a purple syringe. “I got it!”

Then Luis stopped. His eyes went forward, his expression confused and perhaps shocked. Chris took a step forward, alarmed, ready to bite out a gruff demand for answers, when something like a scorpion’s pincer burst from the man’s chest and lifted him high into the air. Blood gushed and dripped and Luis screamed in pain. For a second, Chris wasn’t able to move. 

“Luis!” Leon shouted, running forward, but Chris shot an arm out to hold Leon back, because there was a man standing beneath where Luis was hanging in the air, a man in a deep purple robe with a wrinkled face and a tentacle attached to the barb inside Luis’s chest coming from beneath his clothes. An actual monster, the first one Chris had seen here, and he had Luis hanging from his talon like a fish on a hook.

The purple syringe dropped from Luis’s and into the waiting hand of the robed man. Luis cried out in agony as the tentacle whipped him up and down before tossing him to the floor, the hole in Luis’s chest pouring blood that pooled around him. Only then did Chris pull his arm back, letting Leon run to the injured man, Leon skidding across the floor on his knees as he clambered to Luis’s side and lifted the man into his arms. Chris kept his sights on the robed figure as the tentacle retracted and disappeared beneath the heavy garbs. “Who are you?!” Chris demanded, moving to stand between the monster and the Luis and Leon, Matilda up.

Hollow eyes dragged themselves to land on Chris. “Ah— so you’re the extra thorn in my side. I was wondering what could possibly prompt BSAA to meddle in my affairs. That is— until I learned of who you _really_ are.” He smiled placidly. “You share quite a history with Mr. Kennedy, don’t you? I’m not sure if you’re actually here for the President’s daughter, or just your own selfish reasons.” He looked down at the syringe in his hand and smiled wider. “Now that I have the sample…” He looked to Luis. “You serve me no purpose.”

“Saddler!” Leon shouted, fury lacing his words.

Oh god— this was Lord Saddler.

“My boy Salazar,” Saddler drawled. “Will make sure the two of you follow the same fate.” Saddler turned his head to leave, disappearing through the door again, and Chris knew he should go after the man, put the mission at the forefront, but—

He turned and saw how bad the damage was. Luis wasn’t going to recover from this and he knew it wasn’t going to be pretty. Chris was suddenly reminded of Lt. Marvin Branagh, the officer Leon had tried so hard to save, only to be defeated by the reach of the T-virus. He remembered how badly that had shaken Leon. He knew that this— this was going to be worse.

“Stay with me, Luis,” Leon begged. Chris went down on his knees at the other side of the dying man, wishing he could do something to ease the pain. Leon was desperately pushing his hands into the hole in Luis’s chest like he thought it was possible to save the man if he could just stop the bleeding.

Luis lifted his head, leaning into Leon’s chest, and began to speak, his voice weak. “I am a researcher… Hired by Saddler.” Luis smiled and a hoarse laugh pulled itself from his ruined lungs. “He found out what I was up to.”

“Don’t talk,” Leon ordered shakily, starting to pull at the bottom of Luis’s clothes to get a better look at the wound, but Luis slapped his hand away with a grunt. Leon reared back, his expression twisted and tortured as Luis put his fist in Leon’s hand.

“Here,” the dying man wheezed. “It should suppress growth of the parasite.” Luis’s head began to lull back in Leon’s arms, his body weakening. “The sample,” he whispered. “Saddler took it. You… have to get it back…”

The light was dying from Luis’s eyes. Chris had watched countless men and women die, and he’d held some of them in his arms as Leon was doing now for Luis. He would have done anything to keep Leon from having this memory. 

“You,” Luis slurred, so near the end. Chris realized Luis was talking to him and leaned in, giving Luis his full attention and hating the smile Luis pulled on. “Take care of this kid, yeah, soldier? _Mi Tesoro_ , always wearing his heart on his sleeve. Makes an… easy target…”

Luis’s head dropped back and he went limp in Leon’s arms. “Luis!” Leon cried out, tugging at the front of his shirt, shaking Luis’s now-dead body. _”Luis!”_ As Leon realized that the man was gone and slumped forward, resting his head in the crook of Luis’s neck, Chris sat back on his haunches and fought back tears of his own, unable to see Leon in such pain and unable to deny that those dying words meant more than Luis could even know. And after everything Luis had done to save Leon…

Chris wasn’t fluent, but he knew enough Spanish to know that Luis had been more than just platonically attached to the Government Agent. Even though it would have spiked jealousy in Chris moments before, now all he felt was a kindred spirit with this dead man.

“Either they leave me behind,” Leon whispered into Luis’s cooling body. “Or they die trying.”

Chris had to look away as Leon gently laid Luis’s body to the floor and stood. There was the rustle of fabric, and Chris glanced up to see Leon removing his jacket to lay it across Luis’s upper half, covering his face out of respect. The wool of the jacket soaked up the blood and the red leeched into the leather like poison spreading in the veins. Chris stared at the covered body and felt nothing but exhaustion. Leon opened his hand and they both saw pills in his grip, the magic medicine to slow the Plaga.

“We have to keep going,” Leon said, his voice _empty._ “We— have to keep going.”

“Ashley needs us,” Chris agreed softly, but he made no move to stand. 

“A lot of people need us.”

Chris looked up at Leon and felt his heart turn inside out at the expression he saw. “I’m so sorry for leaving you,” he choked out, unable to forget what Leon had said. _Leave me behind or die trying._ God, was that how Leon saw himself? His relationships? Had more people abandoned Leon than just him? Leon had said a name before, someone called Krauser, had— how many times had people turned their backs on Leon while Leon could only watch helplessly? 

“Leon, I— I’m just so fucking sorry.” Chris had said it so many times, and yet it didn’t feel like enough. A sobbed clawed at his throat but somehow he wasn’t crying. “I keep trying to tell myself that it was for the best, but I know I’m just lying to myself so I feel better about the terrible thing I did. I know I was lied to but I don’t know who did or why and so I can’t— I can’t put the blame on anyone but myself, and I’m just so. _Sorry._ ”

Leon stared into him, his expression drawn and pale, Luis’s blood was still on his clothes and skin. Chris tore his eyes away and shuddered a sharp intake of air, feeling like he couldn’t breathe right. “I fucked up, I fucked up,” he choked out, his hands starting to shake. “I fucked up so badly and I can’t even begin to fix it because I don’t deserve to and you don’t deserve to go through this all over again. I-I left you behind and what I did was unforgivable and all I can do is say I’m sorry and know that it’ll never be enough.”

His vision blurred and he realized he actually _was_ crying. Chris tried to stop, not wanting to make it seem like he was trying to incite pity. “I couldn’t even think without you,” he confessed in a wavering voice. “I spent days and months and years telling myself you were better off when in reality you were only _suffering._ And so was I, so was I, nothing like you, but I was in _agony_ with you gone, and it as all— pointless, it was all _worthless,_ I made us both suffer for _nothing, we suffered for nothing!”_

The tears fell steadily down his cheeks and hit the floor, mixing with Luis’s pooling blood as he rambled. “There was no point to any of it and no point to the pain, no strength that I gained from it. _I could have been spending my life with you,_ and instead I condemned you to this loneliness, this _hell,_ sending you back into the worst of it without anyone at your side. And you kept going, you kept fighting, _you’re so fucking brave,_ I love you so much and it kills me to know that you—”

“You love me?”

Chris cut himself off at Leon’s voice and couldn’t look up. His hands were clenched into tight fists on his knees. He suddenly couldn’t speak. He only nodded. 

There was a pervading silence for a long moment. 

Then, Leon’s voice— “Can I touch you?”

Chris choked on another sob and nodded again. Boots sounded and then arms wrapped around his shoulders as Leon went down on his knees beside Chris, pulling Chris into his chest. Fingers weaved themselves into his hair, stroking gently across his scalp, and Chris shook apart in Leon’s arms. Chris turned his face into Leon’s chest, finding a selfish comfort in the man’s body that he knew he didn’t deserve.

“God, Chris,” Leon said between them. “I— you’ve been in this fight for too long.”

Chris laughed and the sound hurt his chest. Leon squeezed him tighter and rubbed a hand up and down Chris’s back. “I should be helping you,” Chris mumbled. “Your friend—”

“Died doing what was right,” Leon finished for him. “And god— it’s gonna hurt forever. But we can’t give up now.” Leon rocked back a little, pulling Chris into him. “We can’t give up. And— god, Chris, you can stop being sorry.” Chris wanted to argue, wanted to say Leon should never, _ever_ forgive him, but Leon kept going. “I’ve been so fucking blind,” he sighed. “Seeing you as my enemy when you’re just as much a victim as me.”

“Shut up,” Chris forced out. “You were _alone._ ”

“And you did that.” Leon paused. “But someone out there made you do it. And I— believe you. That you really did think I was safe.” Leon cleared his throat. “And you know something? If I had been in your position? If I’d thought leaving you behind would give you a safe life? I-I would’ve done the same thing.” The admission sounded like it hurts Leon to say, but—

Well, it made a sick sort of sense, in its own way. Chris shut his eyes and pretended the blood he felt in Leon’s shirt were only his own tears.

“We’re both fucked up,” Leon whispered. “We’re not going to get any better. All we’ve got is each other.”

And they hardly had that anymore either.

“Can you stand?” Leon asked. “Ashley could really use these pills.”

Chris pulled himself from Leon with effort and wiped his eyes on the back of his arm. He felt Leon’s eyes on him as Chris stood and shook out his limbs, ignoring the body on the ground because he just couldn’t handle any of this. 

“Once we’re done here,” Leon hedged carefully. “Maybe— maybe we can talk. About us.”

Then Leon was standing beside him and walking ahead, leading Chris faithfully into their next fight. Chris told himself he could survive this if only for that sliver of hope of hearing Leon says those three words back to him one day.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *the calm before the storm*
> 
> i think
> 
> idk guys i need to fit in the character development somewhere also we get BACKSTORY YAY APPLAUSE ALL AROUND

Leon knew he was weak.

It was obvious, plain as day, unable to be ignored when he’d crumbled to the sight of Chris actually _crying._ He didn’t think he’d ever seen Chris cry before, and he honestly hoped he never would again after this. Leon had always thought seeing the way Chris lost himself to a panic attack after being bit would be the worst thing he’d ever see in Chris, but he’d been wrong. Chris Redfield crying was— a visceral experience and Leon still felt a little sick. Luis Sera dead on the floor was bad enough, a horrific reminder of Leon being too late to save someone for the millionth time in his life. Added to the way Chris had fallen apart for Leon to see? Leon was shaken to his core and he knew he was _weak_. He’d given in to what he’d fought to deny and had forgone all of his promises to himself of keeping distance for his own sanity so he could comfort the man he—

God, Leon still loved Chris, didn’t he? Of course he did, how could he not? He’d just never let himself think about it, never forced that reality to the surface because it hurt too much. Leon wasn’t really that kind to himself, but even his own internal masochism had a limit. Thinking about Chris was bad enough. Thinking about how Leon still loved him? After _six years?_ It brought a few unfortunate facts about Leon’s mental state into the limelight that he’d rather ignore.

Now— he couldn’t. Because Chris had said it, the first between them both to ever actually confess of the love they’d felt in Raccoon City but never exposed, too scared of moving too quickly and ruining things. Leon had dreamed of a reality where he’d been brave enough to tell Chris he’d loved him that night. He’d always wondered if telling Chris he loved him would have made Chris think twice about abandoning him. Now that he knew Chris felt the same—

God, it probably would have worked, wouldn’t it? If he’d just been brave enough to tell Chris the truth, all of his suffering would have been avoided.

Or maybe not. Chris and Claire had been sent away to Rockfort Island and David had introduced the mission with very little flexibility possible. Chris would have gone, with or without Leon’s confession. In the end, he and Chris both had been trying to do what was best for the world, and not for themselves, and that had been their downfall. 

Leon clenched his jaw and decided he was done thinking about that. But the second he tore his thoughts from what could have been, he felt the wetness to his clothes and remembered Luis again. _God._ That honestly wasn’t any better. 

The pills were tucked away in Leon’s side pocket, ready for Ashley whenever he found her. He hoped Chris wouldn’t comment on Leon’s refusal to take the medicine. Luis hadn’t been able to explain dosage or repeated use and Leon didn’t want to take a single pill if it meant robbing Ashley of a full dose of the medicine that could quite possibly save her life. Plus, Leon was expendable now that Chris was here. Even if Leon succumbed to the Plaga permanently, Chris was uninfected and a damn good soldier on his own. He’d be able to complete the mission. He was Leon’s failsafe.

The idea of relying on Chris again brought heat to his cheeks and he struggled to tamper down the well of emotion in his chest as he remembered how Chris had felt in his arms. Leon had tried so hard to fight it, fight the magnetic pull Chris Redfield had with Leon’s entire being, but he’d been fucking _weak_ and he was too tired to even really berate himself for it. Leon was probably going to die by the end of this. Why couldn’t he have something good before he went?

That final thought solidified Leon’s decision. He’d told Chris they would talk about their relationship once this was over, but Leon wasn’t actually counting on surviving that long, though it wouldn’t be for lack of trying. Since Leon was going to die to this shit, he was going to face the end without regrets. And if that meant denying the anger and allow a slip of impulse control here and there, allowing himself to touch Chris and be touched rather than barring his teeth like a wounded animal? Well, it didn’t seem like that bad of a last day on earth to him.

Leon led Chris around the huge room that seemed more like a cathedral than anything else, the mezzanine surrounding and looking over a secondary room below with a single rampart that stretched into the center of the huge opening. He was able to scrounge some ammo as he swept the room with Chris, resolutely ignoring where they were as they were able to rack up a much more comforting amount of bullets. As Leon got further and further away from Luis’s cold body, he began to hear a voice. 

_“Help!”_

“No fucking way,” Leon breathed.

“Is that Ashley?” Chris asked, his voice still a little raw at the edges from falling apart. “She sounds close.”

“She sounds like she’s _beneath_ us,” Leon agreed. He went out onto the rampart, hoping to get a better view of the area below. Leon peered over the edge and saw—

“Ashley!” Leon shouted, seeing the girl still shackled to the wall by those thick metal arms. The poor girl was thrashing about valiantly, kicking her feet and struggling for purchase, like she was trying to find a way to push herself out through the top. Leon genuinely admired the fight in her. He always thought one of the defining characteristics of a human being was a steadfast refusal to die quietly. “Hold still!” He called out as he held Rot steady and shot the arms of the contraption, each bar retracting with each perfect shot. 

“Nice eye,” Chris murmured beside him as Leon broke away the second arm. A grin tugged at Leon’s lips, but he shoved it away. Don’t be too fucking eager, Leon. He and Chris still weren’t one hundred percent— there was a lot of anger and hurt left between them and he couldn’t pretend everything he’d suffered hadn’t happened. But he also couldn’t deny it felt good to be told he’d done something right, especially by Chris. 

Leon fired one last time and the third bar retracted, Ashley stumbling away from the wall with a gasp of relief. She looked up at them and grinned. “Talk about a near death experience! And glad to see you guys made it in one piece!” She put her hands on her hips, faux-confidence sliding into place to hide the fear. “I thought you boys would be lost without me!”

Chris chuckled softly under his breath and Leon turned to him to suggest they should find a way down—

“Oh god!”

Ashley’s scream of fear had Leon’s gaze snapping back to the level below, where the walls had lifted like another magic act and robed enemies clambered over one another to reach her, weapons swinging in the air, that horrible chanting grating Leon’s ears. “Ashley!” Leon shouted. “Get out of there!”

“It’s gotta be locked,” Chris said, lifting Matilda and holding it steady, aiming at the priests below. “You got any ideas, Leon?”

“No Sir,” Leon said as he unslung the rifle and went down on one knee to steady his aim. “But I’m thinking one of these assholes has to have the key.”

“Take ‘em all out?” Chris asked, his sights one the skull of a monster beneath.

“With prejudice.”

Leon heard the bang of Matilda and smiled as a head exploded into blood and bone. No parasite writhed from the ruined neck. This was going to be a shooting gallery, and for once, Leon didn’t feel like a monster for taking lives so flippantly. These fuckers were trying to grab Ashley, reaching for her with long arms, faces reminiscent of a boogie man. He’d be damned before he let any of them take his charge. 

“Ashley!” he called out. “Find a key!” He kept half his sight on Ashley and the other half on the assholes he and Chris killed, shot after shot ringing out with deadly efficiency, no one coming even close to Ashley. The girl slowly grew confident as more and more of the men dropped dead, removing her hands from where they covered her head and even stepping forward to search bodies. Eventually the waves ended, and Ashley fished out a key from a robed pocket with a noise of triumph. 

“I found it, Leon!” she called out. “I’ll come to you!” She ran for the door that really had been locked and disappeared beyond it after using the key. Leon— fuck, he had no idea where that could come out. Where was she going? Could she handle being in the castle by herself? Not that Ashley wasn’t a smart girl, but she didn’t have a weapon on her, what if she came across more priests? What if they just snatched her up again while Leon was just standing here waiting with his thumb up his ass?”

“So we just wait?” Chris asked.

Leon swallowed hard. “Looks like it.” Luis’s corpse was literally right across the room and Leon _couldn’t leave._ He was itching to bolt, to get as far away from his failure and the loss as quickly as possible, but now he was left standing here, feeling like an idiot because there was no way to know how long it would take Ashley to come back and if at all. Leon pulled Rot from its holster and started going over the weapon, checking the slide and catch and safety, thinking about cleaning the gun and how lucky he was it still hadn’t choked up on him. He had very little ammo for it, and Fish had had a point, it was silly to cling to tightly to a weapon that had such rare ammo to come by, but the gun meant—

“Why Rot?”

Leon’s gaze snapped to Chris, and the older man winced and glanced away. Leon looked him over, seeing the color hadn’t quite come back to his cheeks and that his eyes were a little red. His first instinct was to get angry at Chris and say it wasn’t his right to ask or know, but Leon had been the one to make a tentative step forward between them both and— god, Chris really was a sort of victim in his own way in this whole mess. And he’d never stopped fighting, same as Leon. Leon only barely knew the half of what Chris had seen since they’d parted ways, however unwillingly. Honestly, from what little Leon knew? He was lucky Chris Redfield was even alive to turn his world upside down tonight. Leon flexed his grip on Rot. “Why does it matter?”

“You’re clever with names,” Chris told him, still not looking at him. “You always seem to have a reason for the names you choose.”

“I’ve only ever told you of three names I’ve given things.”

“Fish makes four,” Chris reminded him. “What does Fish mean?”

“Fuck it, shit happens,” Leon replied. “Buying weapons from an infected? Seemed pretty fitting for the situation I’m in.”

“And Matilda?”

“Sounds like a grandmother, right? That’s cause it is.”

Chris’s brow flew up in surprise. “You—” He cut himself off and his eyes flitted around like he was thinking quickly. “You told David… and us that you didn’t have any other living relatives when you were a kid. Was that a lie?”

Leon grimaced. “Kinda, yeah. Cause if you remember, I also told you I spent my summers in Raccoon City with my grandparents.”

Chris looked to him. “… Why not go to them, Leon? Why stay with your parents?”

God, it was so _bizarre_ to be talking about his parents with _anyone._ Chris Redfield was the only person Leon had ever directly told and the only person who knew true details. Sherry knew Leon’s childhood had been rocky, but that was the extent of it. He was sure she’d made some accurate assumptions of her own, but she’d never brought it up, which Leon was grateful for. Leon didn’t— he didn’t _talk_ about it, he just _didn’t,_ so to have it in the air like this, a genuine conversation, even with Chris, went against everything he’d trained himself to be his whole life. 

“My grandparents lived in Raccoon City,” Leon told him. “I would come over from New York City in the summers because my parents didn’t like having me home all the time, and honestly? I was pretty excited to get away too. My grandfather wasn’t military or police, but he had a hunting rifle for duck season and a shotgun for skeet shooting. He taught me to use both.”

Chris frowned. “Did they not know what your parents were doing?”

“They knew,” Leon said softly. “To tell you the truth, they had a restraining order out on both my parents. But they never turned me away. I think… they were working with some lawyer.” Leon looked down at Matilda that was resting in Chris’s hands. “Some nights, a lady in a business suit would come by and ask me questions. I never told her anything and I could see it upset both her and my grandparents, but I just— couldn’t. I’d trained myself to never say a word. The idea of telling anyone made me wanna vomit.” Leon shrugged and brought his gaze to the floor. “I disappointed them because I wouldn’t say anything, but I was always afraid to drag them into it. My parents were violent, you know? They talked about wanting people dead all of the time. They’d talk about my grandparents dying and they seemed to love the idea.”

“Shit heads,” Chris bit out.

“That’s an understatement.”

“How long did you get to stay with them?”

Leon grimaced. “They died,” he admitted softly. “When I was eleven. Mysterious circumstances doesn’t even begin to cover it, they were found dead in the car in the garage with the garage door shut and the motor running. A 1964 Pontiac Catalina, the emissions killed them. Police said there was no sign of a struggle, that it was a suicide, but…” Leon sighed and shook his head. “Who am I kidding? Maybe it was a suicide. Maybe it wasn’t. It doesn’t matter because I can’t prove anything. But when they were found dead, that was the first time I ever thought about being a cop. Because RPD called off the investigation and I kept telling myself that if I’d been there, they wouldn’t have been labeled a suicide. But again, it might not have been. There was no inheritance to anyone, no real property to gain. No reason for them to be killed. Maybe… maybe they just wanted out.”

Chris let out this noise that had Leon looking back up at him. “I’m so sorry, Leon,” Chris said. “I didn’t know.”

“It’s not like I told you,” Leon huffed. “It’s not like I told _anyone._ Hell, I just kinda— blocked out that part of myself. Named Matilda after my grandmother because she always told me I was stronger than I believed and that I’d do great things. Got off the streets after a cop found me sleeping in the park when my roommate kicked me out to fuck some girl and went to the police academy on his word, told myself I was doing it to help people because I couldn’t think about losing them. And then the murders in Arklay happened and I just… Told myself I was going back to Raccoon to help. Not because I was hoping to find that same peace I’d had in my childhood.”

“Jesus, Leon.”

Leon huffed. “Sorry I’m not fucking perfect, Chris.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Chris told him. “I just— wish things had been different for you.”Leon grimaced and looked away again. “Sometimes, so do I.”

There was a pause before Chris cleared his throat. “So was your grandfather named ‘Rot’ or a I just that much of a stain in your memory?”

Leon winced at the question, knowing how it sounded, but, “Rot is German for red.”

“Uh… Favorite color?”

“I know you’re a little dense sometimes, but you’re not stupid, _Redfield._.”

There was another long pause. “… You named it after me?”

Leon couldn’t meet his eyes. “In a way, yeah. It was your gun, after all, I couldn’t just pretend it wasn’t. There’s other reasons for the name, like the zombies I put down with the gun and just… myself.” He hoped he wasn’t giving too much away even though he was sure Chris could tell Leon’s mental state was in shambles, clear as day. “But it wasn’t named that for you, in so much as it was just me trying to be less obvious that it was named _for you._ ” 

He scratched awkwardly at the back of his neck. Leon had never told anyone this either. Chris was just one giant, neon exception for him and it was disconcerting. “It wasn’t— meant to hurt you. I don’t think so, at least. I never named it that thinking that I’d meet you again one day and you’d be hurt by the name if you ever found out. I just couldn’t risk giving too much away. I couldn’t risk anyone finding out about you. So I hid the name beneath layers of symbolism. Made myself out to be a pretentious douchebag, but at least no one made the connection between you and it. I— kept your identity safe.”

Chris sighed. “Well, I guess it’s a bad time to bring up the fact that Salazar and Saddler both seem like they know about… us.”

“So you noticed?” Leon had been hoping he hadn’t. “I have no idea how they could know. The only people who know about what we had been was…”

Leon trailed off, the list so short, the only name being an unknown variable making his blood run cold. Chris’s people knew, but they wouldn’t tell. Sherry knew, but she wouldn’t tell. There was only one person left on that list and Leon would give _anything_ to erase the name from his memory. “David, John, Barry, Jill, Oscar, Rebecca, Claire, and Sherry,” he recited stiffly.

“Are you sure that’s it?” Chris pressed. “No one else?”

Leon glared sharply at him. “Shouldn’t I be asking you the same thing?”

“God, Leon, I couldn’t even date another person, let alone talk about you.”

Leon’s glare morphed into a scowl. “The only other person who knows is dead.”

Chris fell silent, his eyes searching Leon’s face. If he was looking for a lie, he wouldn’t find one. Krauser had died in a plane crash two years ago, a week after he’d killed Leon and left him lying in a bed, bones exposed. 

Except— Chris had lied about Ada, what if—

“I’m going to ask you something,” Leon began carefully. “And I swear to _fucking god,_ if you lie to me? Any chance of us ever being something even remotely like we were before will be _gone._ ” 

Chris solidified his stance as his expression became strained. “Leon, I have to—”

“If you don’t tell me the truth to my next question, _you will be destroying me in a way you’ve never managed to achieve before._ ”

Chris’s breath caught audibly. “Okay,” he told Leon. “The truth.”

“Swear on your life.”

“Swear on my life.”“Swear on _Claire’s_ life.”

Chris flinched. “Leon—”

_“Chris.”_

Chris looked like he was going to cry again. “I swear on Claire’s life.”

Leon nodded, satisfied. “Does the name Jack Krauser have anything to do with Wesker or Ada Wong or any of the BSAA’s work?”

Chris paused. Then frowned. “Who?”

_Oh thank fucking god._

“You’ve said that name before,” Chris said slowly. “Krauser. Who is that?”

“A mistake,” Leon told him. “And a dead one, alright?”

“Why do you look like you’re gonna faint, Leon?”

Did he? Leon frowned and steadied himself, wishing he could be on the outside looking in. 

“Look, whoever that is,” Chris began cautiously. “Like, an ex? Or something. It’s okay. You can tell me.”

“I’m not telling you shit, Redfield,” Leon spat. “Not about Krauser. So drop it.”

“You know I wouldn’t ever judge you.”

_“Drop it, Redfield.”_

Chris huffed in frustration and turned away. “I keep forgetting you hate me half the time,” he said. “I wish I could be just as pissed, honestly. Knowing I was lied to. I wish I could be just as fucking erratic as you are, but I can’t.”

“Sorry we can’t all be a fucking basket case.”

“That’s not what I mean either.” Chris sighed. “You’re— infected, Leon. You’re dying. We’re gonna stop it, yeah, but that fucks with a man’s head. You’re all over the place but it’s honestly kinda in your right. At least you’re still functioning.”

Leon let the anger fade with effort. “Dying’s— not so bad. I’ve done it before.” He shrugged a little. “But I guess you’re right. It’s just… I’m feeling a little out of my mind.” He grimaced. “You being here definitely isn’t helping. I’m grateful to have someone at my back, but I honestly feel like this would be easier if I was alone. Maybe not physically, but… my head would be in a better place.”

Chris nodded. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Leon told him. “Stop apologizing for the shit that isn’t your fault, alright?” He shook his head. “Honestly, I’m still a little amazed you’re here at all. I almost thought— well, for a while, I genuinely believed you knew I was doing this and you just left me to it.”

“I didn’t, Leon,” Chris choked out, shaking his head as well. “Seeing your name on the mission report was the first time I’d heard about you in six years from anyone that wasn’t personal. And the second I saw your name, I was heading to the ‘copter to get here and get you out.”

Leon— “Really?” He couldn’t meet Chris’s eyes as he asked this, letting his hair fall in front of his face to hide.

“Really,” Chris affirmed. “I thought you were _safe._ I thought your biggest concern was Sherry missing the bus in the morning. I never _ever_ imagined you could be in this and everyone told me you weren’t. The second I found out you’d been deployed? My entire world stopped.”

“Who told you that shit?” Leon asked, genuinely curious. Now that he knew Chris had been blatantly lied to for _six years,_ he felt like he could pass some of his anger from Chris onto whoever had orchestrated this colossal miscommunication. 

“Everyone,” Chris replied. “David and Jill, and then O’Brian, who we met about a year after I lost you. And all the others just echoed them. Claire even thought you were safe, you know that? She kept tabs on Sherry through someone who the BSAA employs, I don’t know their name, but I know they’re good at digging into classified shit. Half the time, your name was in the report he gave her. Everyone told me you were a civilian and I accepted it.”

Something wasn’t adding up, something Leon didn’t like. “You knew that there was some conspiracy in S.T.A.R.S. long before anyone else, you were paranoid of _everyone,_ even me, and yet you bought that civilian shit?”

“Jill and David promised me.”

_“And you believed them?”_

Chris’s jaw snapped shut. He stared into nothing. “I— did. And I shouldn’t have.”

Leon grimaced, watching Chris understand exactly _who_ had been lying to him all along. God, hadn’t Chris and Jill been friends? And Chris had trusted David with his life, Leon knew that much. Maybe someone had fed Jill and David lies or maybe they’d just omitted the truth because they cared about Chris more than Leon. That made sense, after all. Leon was just some newbie. Jill hadn’t liked him from the get go. Lying to Chris for the sake of same master plan— well, it wasn’t the craziest thing Leon had ever imagined, but god, did it make him ache for Chris. Being used and manipulated by a superior was one thing. But being manipulated by a friend? Leon couldn’t imagine how that had to feel. 

“Maybe it was someone else,” he told Chris, trying to put off the inevitable, wanting to spare Chris from this agony even if it would vindicate his own. “You said the person digging had me in there too. Maybe USSTRATCOM is feeding bullshit on an espionage scale. This could be their doing, not your friends’.”

“Maybe,” Chris agreed distantly, though Leon could tell he wasn’t buying it. “Or maybe— maybe I—”

Chris was cut off by the door just beside them bursting open and Ashley stumbling through. The sight of the blonde girl was more relieving than Leon could describe. “Leon!” she cried out joyfully, running towards him.

“Ashley,” Leon breathed, running forward to meet her as well. He slowed when they got close, but Ashley didn’t. Instead, she threw her arms around his neck and slammed into Leon, pressing her smaller body against him. Leon grinned a little at how much this reminded him of Sherry and pat her hair, saying, “You did good!”

She pulled away, head ducked. “Leon,” she said. “I-I’m sorry if I was…”

Leon had to wrack his brain for what she was apologizing for, and then remembered she’d fucking _ran off from him._ “Oh, don’t worry about it,” he told the poor kid, knowing she had suffered for her mistake more than he had. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s move on.”

“I’ve got stuff for you!” She pulled bullets from behind her sweater and Leon could kiss the girl, especially when she handed over a serpent ornament much like the goat ornament Leon already had for that one door at the beginning of the castle. “And you should have seen me! There were these suits of armor that could move! I dodged all of them, of course, and I would throw these candles at the priests that tried to get me! And Chris! Chris! I punched one of them!”

Leon looked back in time to see Chris pull on a wide smile. “Wow,” Chris said. “Impressive. Maybe we should consider giving you a weapon.”

“Absolutely not,” Leon denied even though he’d lamented her being defenseless only ten minutes ago. “Not unless we have the time to give her a four hour long training session with either a knife or a gun. And since we don’t have that kind of time to spare, it’s not happening.” He smiled apologetically to the girl as she pouted. “Sorry, Ashley, but leave that to the professionals.”

“Is Chris even a professional?” she asked. “I thought the BSAA was super new.”

“Easily,” Leon told her. “BSAA may be fresh, but Chris has been doing this longer than I have.” He reached up and tousled her hair, grinning when she fought the teasing gesture same as Sherry would. “Trust us, kid, we’ve got it under control.”“That’s not what you said a couple hours ago,” she shot back. And then, “I read a note, Leon. By the butler of this place. He says there’s no cure for the Plaga.”

That— yeah, Leon wasn’t surprised. “He may not have known everything,” Leon said anyways, wanting Ashley to keep faith. “There’s always a chance that he’s mistaken.”

“He has to be,” Chris chimed in. “Wesker doesn’t do shit half assed. He’s part of this. He has an ace up his sleeve.”

“But what if you’re wrong?” Ashley asked, her voice shaking. “What if nothing can save us?”

“That’s not an option,” Chris told her firmly.

“You can’t stubborn people back to life!” Ashley insisted.

“Chris probably could,” Leon snorted.

“What?” Ashley stomped her foot petulantly. “Are you two friends or not? I don’t know what’s going on between you two, you’re both so weird, it’s like you’re—” Ashley cut herself off as her eyes went wide. Leon got a bad feeling. “Oh my god,” she blurted out. “Were you boyfriends?”

Chris and Leon both reared back, faces going red, sputtering and struggling for a lie. “Why is that your first conclusion when two men don’t get along?” Leon demanded, his voice strangled as Chris just kinda stood there and looked floored. “What kind of gut conclusion is that? What the actual fuck?”

Ashley’s eyes went even wider. “You’re not saying no.”

Shit.

“It’s not like that,” Leon said uselessly.

“So you’re not exes? You’re acting a lot like it.”

“You can’t be exes if you didn’t break up,” Chris said, and okay, that wasn’t helping. 

Ashley’s gaze went soft almost like she pitied them. “I’m sorry,” she murmured. “I didn’t mean to bring up anything personal or… painful.” She clenched her small hands into fists at her sides. “Whatever it was, I’m sure it wasn’t fun for either of you. I’m— sorry you both had to come after me.”

Leon and Chris traded helpless glances, unsure of how to handle this. If it were Sherry, Leon would have taken her by the shoulder and promised her she was his daughter and the opposite of a burden. But Ashley wasn’t his daughter, nor was she even his family. And last time Leon had tried to placate her concerns, she’d stomped away in a tizzy and gotten herself captured.

“You were kidnapped,” Chris reminded her, stepping up to the plate when Leon failed. “This isn’t your fault in any way, okay? Unless you wanted to be taken from your home and sent across the world?” He smiled a little and reached out to pat her on the arm, a friendly gesture that reminded Leon of the few times he’d seen Chris interact with Claire. “You’re a victim, alright? Yeah, you’re a badass one, and very brave, but still a victim of someone else’s evil. Us being here isn’t your fault. We’re just here to make things right and get you home safe.”

Ashley looked up at him with so much guilt that Leon wanted to reach out and hug her, regardless of her not being Sherry. He wished he could help her feel better. “Me and Chris being around each other— isn’t the worst thing.”

“You pointed a gun at him,” Ashley reminded him.

“I was in a bad place.” Leon sighed, knowing that wasn’t good enough. “And I was— wrong to do it. He didn’t deserve that reaction.”

“I kinda did,” Chris argued.

“You didn’t,” Leon insisted. “You really didn’t. And I’m sorry.”

Chris stared at him like Leon was speaking Cantonese. Leon grimaced. He deserved this reaction himself. “It’s behind us now,” Leon told Ashley. “Chris and I are partners in this, looking out for you. If anything, we’re gonna be better off by the end of this. So don’t blame yourself for a second, alright? And let’s get moving. I wanted out of this place ages ago.”

His communicator shrieked. Chris groaned and turned his head to the ceiling. “This fucking gremlin.”

Leon denied himself another smile as he brought the device to his ear, Salazar’s nasally voice filtering through. _“Aw… what a touching moment we have here.”_

Leon liked to think Salazar was pissed because he hadn’t been fast enough to get to Ashley first. “All spoiled— thanks to your interruption. Why don’t you do us all a favor and leave before the audience gets pissed off?”

Salazar cackled and Leon winced at the grating pitch. _“You’re nothing but an extra in my script, so don’t get too carried away! Your biggest scene is over!”_

Salazar had been preaching that all night. “I don’t ever remember being a part of your crappy script.”

 _“Well then,”_ Salazar drawled. _“Why don’t you show me what a first-class script is like; through your own actions.”_

“He’s been in this shit hole for over twelve hours,” Chris cut in petulantly. “Pretty sure Leon’s audition blew all the others away.”

Salazar made a noise of disapproval and hung up abruptly. Leon looked to Chris and raised a brow. “You think you’re clever, Redfield?”

Chris shrugged. “I have my moments.”

“This wasn’t one of them.”

“I liked it,” Ashley said, grinning and leaning into Chris, his solid stature like a column. “I think you did good.”

“Thank you,” Chris simpered, giving Leon a cheeky smile. 

“You’re both plotting against me,” Leon deadpanned. “I don’t appreciate it.”

“I thought you said this wasn’t one of my clever moments?” Chris shot back.

When Leon couldn’t respond, Ashley took her index finger and pushed it into her cheek, making a dimple as she smiled wider. Leon shook his head and turned away from the two idiots, wondering how he’d gotten so unlucky to have two audacious partners in this hell. “Let’s move.”

Chris and Ashley both snickered and Leon felt his eye twitch. He led them out of the cathedral-esque area— away from Luis, finally, Leon couldn’t stand to be in that place a moment longer— and they broke into an odd room that had a pit to the right and some sort of carnival ride to the left. A quick inspect of the odd compartment that had sofa-like seats showed there was nothing special about it, but Leon wasn’t sure if they wanted to move on yet. He looked over the ledge into the pit and saw it wasn’t fire— it was fucking _lava_ bubbling down below.

“We should check this out,” he told Chris. “Ashley, you wait here.”

Chris let out a grunt of agreement, then reached for his combat knife that was secured in the sleeve on his vest, yanking it from the sheath and flipping it expertly, handing it off to Ashley. “Unlike Leon, I have enough faith in you to hope you won’t gut yourself.”

Ashley grinned and held the knife with a childlike excitement that definitely didn’t instill confidence. “I’ll wait for you to come back.”

The lava pit could only be crossed by an odd contraption, a platform that was held between two gears. Leons stepped onto it cautiously, wondering how he was supposed to make it move. “Eyes up, Kennedy!” Chris’s order had Leon’s head snapping back, just in time to see Chris make a running leap onto the platform next to him, the momentum of Chris’s jump pushing the contraption forward, the gear rolling across the track beneath. Leon almost lost his balance, yelping as the platform suddenly began to move, but Chris quickly steadied him with a hand on Leon’s back. Once Leon had his footing, Chris yanked the hand away. “Sorry,” Chris said sheepishly. “Didn’t have time to ask.”

“About the touching or the fucking Tarzan mechanics?” Leon shook his head, shifting his weight a little to brace for the platform hitting the other edge across the pit, jolting them both. “Give a guy some warning next time.”

“Yessir.”

Now Chris was doing it on purpose. Leon scowled and told himself he was fine with Chris’s snarkiness because it meant he was no longer crumbling to the floor and _crying._ This was an improvement, and a preferable one. He pushed past Chris, refusing to let anything else slip, and went into the next room— then immediately flinched back as the wave of heat hit his body like a train. 

“Jesus,” Chris breathed from behind him. “Didn’t know Spain was atop an active lava zone.”

“We’re on La Palma island,” Leon reminded the man, even as he had to force himself to move forward. The heat was overwhelming and his shirt was thermal. Thank god he didn’t still have his jacket, he would have sweated himself to death in this place. He glanced back at Chris, noting his clothing and figuring it’d be safe for them to spend a few minutes in here without risking overheating. “Holler if you’re feeling faint,” he ordered. “Don’t want you passing out on me.”

“Better than a freezer,” Chris griped. Leon couldn’t agree more.

This entire place was just a series of staircases crossing the boiling lava beneath, odd tower-like structures suspending on either side by chains. Leon could already see the prints that were waiting them in the towers, crossbows ready. He nudged Chris, jerked his head, then aimed and fired at the one on the left side of the staircases while Chris brought his MP5 up and took out the one on the right. The chains gave way beneath the bullets and the screams of the priests dropping and being devoured by the lava made Leon’s skin crawl. “Hell of a way to go,” Chris said, wiping sweat from his brow. “ _God_ , it’s hot.”

“It’s just you,” Leon said with a roll of his eyes as he started forward, climbing the stairs and keeping his eyes open for anymore of these fucking priests. He wondered how unlucky they would have to be to be assigned a post in this room. He crept cautiously along, the sound of the lava beneath making it impossible to hear anyone coming. Chris was a steady presence behind him, but the added body heat was only making Leon more uncomfortable. He was about to suggest they turn back when he spotted something across the way, a blue chest that looked like it had to be important. Unfortunately, no stairs went beyond a ledge they were approaching, just a drop and no way to reach the chest. “Slight hitch in the plans,” he said back to Chris. “I think I see something we need, but—”

From the ceiling in front of them, another one of the towers suddenly dropped down, a red robed priest standing on the balcony, arming the head of a dragon. Leon saw a furnace light flicker on within the bowels of the stone dragon seconds before he rolled away and ducked behind a wall of cover, dragging Chris with him, just barely escaping a sudden rush of fire spewing from the dragon’s mouth. Chris let out a cry of pain as his shoulder hit the floor wrong— the shoulder Leon remembered the Tyrant piercing with a claw, what a thing to remember now, of all times— and Leon looked to him with panic, even as the overwhelming heat of the fire only added to the severity of their situation. “Are you hurt?” he demanded as he gripping Rot and tried to get a good shot at the red priest. “Redfield, answer me!”

“I’m fine!” Chris shouted back. “Jesus christ, what kind of carnival fuckery is this?!”

Leon couldn’t get a shot, couldn’t get his gun around the cover without risking third degree burns. The fire rolled over them in intense waves, Leon’s body growing sluggish even as he tried to keep his thoughts focused. They were being cooked and Leon didn’t see a way out. Then a call, “I’m gonna touch you!” and Chris was suddenly turned Leon around, bringing the him into Chris’s solid chest as Chris pressed his back to the wall and lobbed a grenade over their heads, a blind arch that Leon prayed would be lucky. There was a huge crash that shook the wall and rained pieces of rubble onto their heads, then a wild scream, the fire dropping away as the entire tower was plunged into the lava, same as the others. Chris heaved a sigh of relief that Leon felt in his chest. “Gotta say,” Chris murmured. “Los Illuminados gets an A-plus for creativity.”

Leon choked on a laugh and shook his head. “Umbrella, eat your heart out.”

Chris grinned and clapped Leon on the shoulder, a gesture of camaraderie that wasn’t lost on either of them. Against Chris’s chest, Leon could feel the planes of sculpted muscle and coiled strength, Chris Redfield more formidable than the monsters Leon had faced so far tonight. The body heat was no longer uncomfortable— it was distracting. It was _tempting._. Leon could feel something in his chest twist tellingly. He quickly pulled away and looked ahead again, seeing that a staircase had risen up in place of the tower. He bolted up the stairs and tore open the chest, grabbing the lion ornament carving before running back to Chris. “Let’s get out of here before they get anymore ideas,” he ordered. “On me.”

“On you,” Chris replied, bringing up the MP5 for cover as they ran out of that hellfire room and into the relative coolness of the place they’d left Ashley. She waved excitedly at them from across the pit as Leon and Chris ran onto the platform in unison, momentum acting the same as before. 

“Oh gross, you’re both sweaty,” Ashley said once they reached the other side. Leon glared at her as Chris purposefully ruffled his hair beside her, some of said sweat being thrown from his short locks landing on her shoulder. Ashley shrieked and Chris laughed while Leon wondered how old Chris was now. Thirty? Thirty-one? An actual child. Leon was fighting a smile again and had to just walk away while Ashley handed the knife back over to Chris. Leon jogged down the steps to the bizarre buggy and stepped inside first, looking over it for any sorts of signs for a trap. When he saw nothing, he waved the other two in.

Ashley sat on one side of the buggy as Leon sat in the other, and Chris—

Ashley stretched her legs out across her seat in a dramatic fashion, taking up the whole bench with innocence in her face. Chris winced. Leon rolled his eyes again and scooched over, wordlessly patting the empty spot beside him. “Sorry,” Chris said sheepishly as he wedged himself into the seat, the larger man taking up a lot of room. Leon didn’t respond and the buggy moved quickly, carrying them from what felt like one end of the castle to another at a high speed. Chris had his knees tight together with his MP5 standing between them, muzzle to the ground. He was sitting stiffly, the air cooling the sweat on both their skin. Chris seemed to be making himself as small as possible so he and Leon didn’t brush bodies. 

Leon cut his eyes away and the buggy came to an abrupt halt. Leon stood and quickly looked around, seeing this room was just like all the others— extravagant, wasteful, and empty. He pushed through the door at the other end and—

They were back in the ballroom from the very beginning, facing the door with the depression in the wall that had come up between them and their pursuit of Salazar. “All of that,” Leon said to himself. “For this minuscule amount of progress.”

“Better than nothing,” Chris pointed out.

“At least it’s forward!” Ashley agreed. 

Leon appreciated the positivity. He reached into his various cargo pockets to pull out the lion, serpent, and goat ornaments, sliding them into place. There was a satisfying chunk and then the wall lifted, the way beyond finally being accessible. Leon strode forward and pushed open the sweeping doors Salazar had fled behind and—

They were outside. The cool air seeped into Leon’s skin and finally chased away the heat of that lava dungeon before. Behind him, Chris and Ashley both breathed twin sighs of relief. In front of them, beyond another loggia, was a forest skyline with castle peaks jutting into the dark sky, the moon silhouetting the world beyond like a painting. There was another buggy system awaiting them. “Why are these people using torches if they obviously have electricity to run this shit?” Leon asked as he sat on one of the benches while Ashley took the other. Chris hesitated _again_ and Leon huffed his annoyance. “I don’t have cooties, Redfield.”

“I know that,” Chris shot back. “I just—”

“Sit already.”

Chris sat beside him and Leon made a point of widening the spread of his legs, letting his knee bump against Chris’s, falling into the mindset he’d settled on before. Leon was going to be dead by the end of tonight. Might as well enjoy what he had while it lasted. Across the buggy, Ashley giggled at the sight of them, and Leon knew Chris probably had a pretty blush staining his cheeks. He’d always been so nervous about Leon’s touches even back in Raccoon City. It was nice to know so little had changed. 

The buggy kicked into gear and whipped them away, the cool air now becoming _cold_ with the speed. It was a relief when they were brought back into the castle structure and shielded from the elements, into what appeared to be a seating area, candelabras and oil paintings hanging from the walls with lounge chairs scattered about tastefully. A gateway door arched high above their heads and Leon grimaced as he stood, ready to go first, except—

Chris put an arm out. “Leon,” he said sharply. “Your eyes.”

Leon’s brow furrowed as Ashley’s breath caught. He didn’t understand until Chris whispered, “They’re red.”

Leon’s hands went to his eyes like he thought he could feel the mutation. His blood ran cold and he tensed, anticipating pain or a loss of self, but after a few seconds with nothing happening, he forced himself to relax and looked up at Chris with barely-concealed anxiety. “You take the lead.”

Oddly, Chris didn’t seem relieved by the idea. He was staring at Leon with the same fear Leon was trying to hide. “Does it hurt?” Chris asked low under his breath. From the other side of the buggy, Ashley was watching them with blatant concern. At least her eyes weren’t red. Leon had thought she’d been injected before him— why was he being affected so much more violently? 

“I’m fine,” Leon replied honestly. “I don’t— feel a thing.” He really didn’t. His eyes weren’t even hurting, his vision was clear, there wasn’t a tickle in his throat, he was _fine._ “We can keep going, I’ll be okay,” he promised. “Go.”

Chris grit his teeth. Then he looked up to Ashley, and nodded to Leon. “Let’s move,” he said, taking the lead. Having Chris in front was— not nearly as unsettling as Leon had thought it would be. Leon ducked back, waved for Ashley to go ahead, wanting her between them. He let his bangs fall in front of his face, not wanting her to see his eyes. He wondered just how red was red. He wondered how inhuman he looked. He shook himself and promised it didn’t matter. Dead by the end of the night, right? It wouldn’t be so bad to go out following Chris Redfield. He’d dreamed of it happening more than enough.

Chris brought them into a series of rooms that felt more like an art gallery than a castle. The place was cold, colder than Leon had expected. He almost felt like they were back outside, exposed to the night air, and he shivered. Chris kept casting glances over his shoulder at Leon, as did Ashley, and he ignored them. _He felt fine._ Why was this happening?

Chris pushed open a door and then went stiff before whipping up the MP5. “Salazar!” he barked, prompting Leon to dart in front of Ashley with Rot at the ready. The tiny man was standing in the center of an oak-paneled room, more ghoulish paintings surrounding. 

Salazar was facing away. He clapped his hands and threaded his fingers together, declaring, “I think you’ve lived long enough!” As Chris took a step forward, Salazar threw his hand up into the air. “Let’s see if you can survive this time.”

The door fell shut with a portcullis trapping them as the ceiling rumbled and began to steadily descend, spikes jutting from the tiled pattern. _“No!”_ Ashley screamed, desperate and terrified. As Salazar fled the room, cackling like a madman, Leon and Chris both looked up at the ceiling, saw the red lights in the four corners, and each took two, breaking the lights in perfect form together, the ceiling coming to a halt. The ceiling was still well above their heads and Chris took a step back, blowing out a breath. “Oh,” Ashley said. “I— should have known you two could handle it.”

“We need to go after him,” Leon told Chris, who nodded and ran for the hallway Salazar had disappeared down. Leon followed and pulled Ashley along, Chris far enough ahead that when he ducked beneath an archway and another another portcullis dropped, Leon and Chris were separated. The ground shook beneath their feet again, and Leon looked back down the hall to see—

“Is that a fucking drill?!” 

“Leon, the rifle!”

As Ashley went down in a crouch and covered her head with her hands, Leon passed the rifle through the bars and Chris lined up the sights using the portcullis to steady himself, sending the .223 caliber slugs into the faces of the two priests operating the drill that was the size of a rhinoceros, a startling display of technology that Leon couldn’t explain them having. The priests slumped forward in their seats, dead, and the portcullis lifted. Leon grabbed Ashley by the arm and dragged her through the archway, Chris taking Leon by the sleeve and yanking him along as well. The drill continued, uncontrolled, but Leon didn’t give a shit. They couldn’t let Salazar get away again. 

The halls all led back to the same art rooms as before, and Leon felt like they were running in circles. Chris shoved open a door and was ready to barge through, but skidded to a halt and cried out, “Fish!”

Oh thank fuck.

“You’re not looking so good, friend,” was the first thing Fish said to Leon once Leon was in the room. “Gotta say, though, red’s a nice color on ya.” Leon grimaced, didn’t miss the way Chris tensed. “Luis Sera got those pills before he died— why haven’t ya sampled the merchandise?”

“Luis is dead?” Ashley asked in a tiny voice. 

Fish’s expression softened. “It was a noble death,” he told Ashley, and Leon cursed himself for not thinking to tell her at all. 

“Saving the pills,” Leon told Fish, sticking to business. “As long as she’s not experiencing any loss of control, there’s no reason to waste them since I don’t know the shelf life of the effects.”

“You mean she’s not experiencing the same she effects as you?” Fish’s eyes twinkled mirthlessly. “You’re taking a mighty big risk, Mr. Kennedy.”

“He knows what he’s doing,” Chris defended though his own expression wavered like he wasn’t sure. “Did you see Salazar go past?”

“That I did.” Fish suddenly swept open his coat and pulled out two goblets, one red and one blue, ornate in design. “And this is your ticket to him.” He held them out, one to Chris and one to Leon. “King and Queen’s grails, on the house.”

Chris frowned as he took the blue grail. “And whose freebie is this one?”

“Call it my own personal vendetta,” Fish replied simply. “Salazar is a tiny little parasite, and yet somehow he’s grown too big for his britches if you ask me. Having him gone is just a good investment on my part. And the sooner you’re out of this place, the sooner your quest continues. But a word of warning.” 

Fish leaned in, his voice pitching to a whisper. “You’ve met one ghost— by my count, we have two haunting the graveyard tonight. Watch your backs, boys. This one’s got a thing for angels.”

Leon didn’t like the sound of that. Angels? The word brought images of blond men and women, perfect and sitting high above. Was it an allusion to Ashley? Not that she was angelic, but her large eyes gave her a certain cherub-esque vibe. Another person after Ashley that wasn’t Salazar or Saddler? Maybe it was whoever was behind Ashley’s kidnapping. Leon glanced to Chris and mouthed, _“Wesker?”_ but Chris only shook his head. He didn’t have a clue either and Leon had a feeling Fish would have given them a name if he’d known it. “We’ll keep that in mind,” Leon promised as he took the red goblet. “Thank you, Fish.”

“Think nothing of it.” Fish waved them off and then bowed low to Ashley beyond. “Be mindful of sharp turns, my friends. Us simple mortals can never predict the earthquakes on our own.”

Fish’s words rang in Leon’s mind as Chris began to fall away, beckoning Leon and Ashley. They entered a huge hall with windows opened wide and curtains billowing inwards from the wind, a mob of ten priests armed with scythes waiting at the other end. Leon brought up the Mauser instead of Rot, but Chris grabbed a grenade from his waste and pulled the pin with his teeth, lobbing it into the thick of the mob. The bang shook their feet and all the priests dropped dead, their corpses torn by the shrapnel. Chris sent Leon a cocky grin that lost a little of its light as he met Leon’s red eyes, before striding forward to the gate beyond the bodies. There were two statues— a king and a queen— with hands extended and indents in the palms made to hold the circular bottom of a cup.

Leon held his goblet up, the red being the queen’s, and placed it in the hands of his statue while Chris did the same for the queen. Chris looked to Leon, waiting to hear if he was ready to go. He seemed to go stone solid beneath Leon’s gaze, and Leon could understand why. Red instead of blue had to be unnerving. “I’m good,” Leon said, giving a thumbs up. He had a feeling that whatever was beyond this gate was going to mean _something,_ and— “I have a bad feeling.”

Chris grimaced. “Me too.” He took in a shaky breath and asked, “On me?”

Leon’s breath caught. This— “On you,” he replied softly. Last day on earth, Leon. Make it count.

Chris nodded and pushed through the gate, expression grim. As Leon made to follow, Ashley leaned towards Leon and whispered, “I think he still cares about you.”

Leon didn’t know what Ashley thought about his and Chris’s relationship, but he would give her credit for being observant. Of course Chris still cared about him, he’d said he loved Leon to this day, and Leon had barely been able to keep himself from saying it back. Leon just looked away from Ashley as she followed Chris, seemingly confident that the large man who was starting to bond with her like a brother wouldn’t lead her astray. And Leon— was relieved to know that Chris’s reassuring presence affected more than just him.

Chris led them into a huge room with a ceiling high above their heads and a pit beneath that had no end. From the ceiling— which had huge openings like skylights— hung a squirming cocoon that writhed with what Leon could only imagine to be more of those disgusting insects like the ones he and Chris fought in the sewers. The buzzing of wings filled Leon’s ears and heightened his nerves, that awful feeling pitching in his gut. This area was too open and the sky too close. Anything could be above and beneath them. _Anything could be watching them._

And then, arm outstretched to pull Ashely back to cover, before Leon could even suggest that they should leave, before he could open his mouth, before he could blink— Ashley was snatched up by a horrifying locust the size of Chris and torn into the sky. The girl screamed and Leon—

Couldn’t move. His arm hung in the air, his fingertips numb from where he’d felt the soft threads of her sweater, his hand shaking. She’d been right there, _Ashley had been right there,_ and now she was gone because Leon hadn’t moved fast enough, hadn’t been vigilant, hadn’t see the monsters coming. He’d— he’d _failed again._

“Leon!”

Chris’s voice shot through him, somehow louder than the insects spinning above their heads, their wings piercing into the corners of Leon’s brains. He flinched away from the noise and focused instead on the gunshots, Chris firing up into the swarm, but having little effect because the locust _just kept coming._

A moment of clarity spun through Leon’s brain and he shouldered Chris aside, snatching the MP5 from his grip. Chris shouted at him, called him crazy, but Leon didn’t listen. He only brought the sights put to the hive overhead and emptied the clip. The disgusting things inside the hive shrieked as the weakened structure fell victim to its own weight, the cocoon falling from the ceiling and dropping into the endless put beneath them. The locust swarming them cried out their agony at the loss and flew down after the hive like they thought they could save it, and eventually the world was silent again as the darkness swallowed the monsters whole.

Leon still had his sights up. He was still shaking.

“It’s okay,” Chris told him from behind. 

Leon couldn’t fucking breathe. “She’s gone,” he choked out. “Again. She’s gone.”

“I know,” Chris said. “We’ll get her back. We already have once.”

“She needs the pills.” Leon could shoot himself. “I— should have given her the pills.”

“You couldn’t have known.”  
Leon spun on his heel and shoved Chris’s gun back into his chest, inexplicably furious because he couldn’t afford to feel anything else. “I knew the second we walked into this room that it was bad news! I should have said something, I should have pulled you both back! _I knew something was going to go wrong!_ ”

“Your bad feeling,” Chris said, speaking calmly. “I get it, Leon, I really do, but this isn’t—”

“I have one job,” Leon spat out, shoving a finger at Chris since there was no one else. “I have one fucking job! Get Ashley the fuck out of this place. Taking out the Plaga isn’t even the full thing, I just have to get her out! But then I fuck up and they call in the BSAA, and then she gets taken again because I say the wrong shit and scare her off and then this—”

Leon clenched his hands into fists, wanted to hurt someone, wanted to kill something, wanted to prove that he wasn’t a mistake and a failure and that he could _do his fucking job,_ he didn’t need anyone, he didn’t need help, he was a fucking _soldier,_ that was all he was good for, he was nothing else, he was nothing, _he was a weapon_ , he was—

“It’s my fault.” Chris sliced into Leon’s thoughts again and Leon jolted out of his head harshly. Chris was watching him with such fucking guilt. “I shouldn’t have brought us in here, the fucking ceiling alone— and that hive. It was bad news. I was the one leading. I— should have know.”

Oddly enough, Chris trying to take the responsibility? To help Leon? That shut down all of Leon’s self-deprecation faster than Ashley had been taken from them. “There’s no way you could have known,” Leon said softly, knowing the same applied to him now that he was thinking of it in relation to Chris. How could they have predicted this? The things they’d fought in the sewers were bipedal and invisible, they couldn’t fly and they didn’t have the strength to lift an entire person. This was something new that they hadn’t observed before. And could they really have gone back at all? Chris had known the only way out was through, same as Leon and Ashley. It wasn’t—

It wasn’t anyone’s fault.

Leon took in a deep breath. “Hey,” he called out gently, making Chris look him in the eye. He kept on a brave face and nudged Chris carefully with the knuckles of his hand. “We’ll get her back. Let’s get moving.” When Chris didn’t respond, Leon let the brush of his knuckles turn into a hand on Chris’s bicep, the warmth of the other man bleeding through the leather of Leon’s gloves as he murmured between them, “On you.”

Chris stared at him.

They both knew it was different this time. 

Then Chris nodded and pulled away, however reluctantly, to face forward again. “Freaks on wings, right?” Chris said from over his shoulder. “You see one bug, you see them all.”

Leon didn’t fight the smile this time. He brought Rot up and followed Chris without hesitation, knowing Chris would do his best to keep them both safe and get Ashley home, no matter what. And— it felt good to know that even after six years, Leon’s faith in Chris Redfield had never really died. Not when it counted. 

At least, after everything, Leon still had someone he could believe in.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> who's the best wingman in the world? *you finna find out*
> 
> chris is great guys love him with me

Chris felt a little like he’d been tased.

Or something similar, at least. 

The way Leon had said it, the way he’d told Chris he would follow him, those familiar two words suddenly feeling like they were being used as they’d been said all those years ago. Leon lying beneath him in a grungy motel bed, hair splayed around his face like a halo, that breathless smile and twinkling eyes, asking Chris, “On me?” and sending Chris’s heart into genuine palpitations. That moment in the motel had never felt so far away and yet so easy to remember, clear as day in his mind’s eyes because the Leon he’d known then was weaving perfectly intertwined with the Leon before him now once Leon had used those words with no intent to hurt and every attempt to _connect._ And now— now Chris had to keep going and act like everything was normal, like he hadn’t been floored by those two words coming from Leon’s soft, wet lips, parted gently, expression soft, eyes—

Red.

Leon’s eyes were still red.

Red like blood or these monsters, that gorgeous blue gone, and Chris didn’t know for how long. He wondered if the red eyes would be permanent, even after curing Leon of the plaga. He had no idea how the parasite worked, but if the blue was gone forever, then—

Chris frowned to himself as he led Leon down a rampart, the cold air hitting them like bricks again. If the blue was gone forever, Chris suddenly realized he would just… get used to it. There was no reason for the red eyes to be so off-putting because it was still Leon and only Leon. So what if they were a little inhuman? Fish had said it first, Leon looked good in red. And it made Leon look dangerous in a way that couldn’t be ignored. Maybe people would finally stop underestimating Leon. Maybe _Chris_ would finally stop underestimating him. And that didn’t seem so bad. What idiot researcher would continue their spiel about ending the world when facing down a deadly government agent with glaring red eyes? They’d shit themselves. The red wasn’t bad. Chris was sure he was almost starting to like it.

Leon’s communicator screeched and Chris winced at the sound, looking back to Leon, who still seemed a little shaken by losing Ashley, but had overcome that setback like a fucking trooper. Leon met his eyes— _the red really wasn’t that bad_ — and cocked his head in some sort of exasperation. “Gotta talk to my biggest fan,” Leon quipped as he pulled the communicator from his belt and to his ear. 

_“I wonder if you can see me, Mr. Kennedy,”_ Salazar simpered.

“If you even scratch her, I’ll break your bones,” Leon spat, red eyes flashing dangerously. Yeah, if the red eyes were permanent? This war on B.O.W.s would be over the second Leon stared a villain in the face.

_“First, we shall see if you can make it this far… I’ll be waiting.”_

The transmission ended and Leon looked like he wanted to throw the communicator off the rampart and down the surrounding cliffs. “He does seem a little obsessed with you,” Chris agreed offhandedly as he turned ahead again, leading Leon to the huge clocktower. “Maybe someone’s got a bit of a crush?”

Leon wasn’t joking back. Instead, he was squinting across the chasm surrounding them to the keep beyond. Chris turned to see what Leon was seeing—

Ashley.

“Shit,” Leon cursed low beneath his breath. Chris couldn’t agree more. The poor girl had her arms tied behind her back, two priests leading her along at spearpoint, Salazar waving his hands wildly like he had some sort of power to employ. Ashley looked _scared,_ so very scared, and Chris wished he was there just to snap Salazar’s grimy little neck to make her feel better. 

“We gotta move,” Chris said, knowing that this small procession had a purpose. They climbed the stairs to the top of the clocktower, creeping inside quietly, knowing there had to be some sort of plot to keep them from pursuing Ashley. The clocktower itself was a chaotic amalgamation of wooden gears and parts, the clock silent with the machine apparently broken. Chris couldn’t see or hear anything sinister, so when Leon started speaking— reading from a slip of paper— Chris relaxed.

“The things that took Ashley are called _Novistadors,_ ” Leon told him. “And they seem to think they can stop us in here. Or at least distract us. Apparently the clocktower is broken because they put shit in it to make it stop working.”

Chris nodded along, understanding most of this, except— “Why would a broken clocktower stop us?”

Leon’s brow furrowed as he digested Chris’s question. “Why the fuck would we _care_?”

Then they met eyes. The red was actually rather pretty. Chris and Leon both grinned. “You jump down first, I’ll cover, then you cover my drop?”

“Just get to the bottom and get to the door,” Leon agreed. “If we can bypass everyone in here, there’s no reason why we wouldn’t make it to Ashely in time. And then we just scale the walls or something, get the hell outta dodge.”

Chris brought up the MP5, loading the last clip. He went to the first ladder and aimed his sights below. “On you.”

“On me,” Leon said before forgoing the ladder entirely and jumping down the level, coming back up with a fluid roll and seeing— nothing. “Pretty sure they expect us to waste our time with their stupid fucking clock,” Leon griped. “How do you say ‘call your landlord’ in Castilian?”

Chris jumped down to join Leon, wracking his brain for what little Spanish he knew. “I only speak the dialect from Mexico, and like, nothing at all in that.”

“Huh,” Leon said as he went to the next ladder, jumped, and then waited for Chris to do the same, steadily descending and sharing smalltalk like everything was absolutely normal about this in their lives. “I took French.”

Chris grunted as he landed hard, his armor weighing him down more than the nimble Government Agent. “Hot,” he drawled. Leon glared at him and Chris didn’t even flinch despite the red. He really was growing used to it. “I can ask for the bathroom and I know a couple simple nouns and shit. I know some grammar rules. Uh.” He struggled to find anything else. “I know how to curse. You?”

Leon smirked. Then, _“Vous avez le corps d'un dieu et le QI d'une durée de cinq ans.”_

“Oh,” Chris said rather stupidly. “You speak French.”

_“Un peu.”_

“I don’t know what that means.”

Leon actually laughed, and the sound was beautiful. “I may have insulted you,” he confessed as he dropped down the final level, boots on the stone as quiet as ever. “Which is hardly fair considering you can’t defend yourself in a language you don’t speak.”

Chris joined Leon at the bottom level and wished he could hear that laugh again. Then he smirked and said, “ _Tirate a un poso._ ” As Leon struggled to try and figure out what that meant, Chris moved past him to the huge gateway door that was opposite the blocked door, finding it unlocked as he pushed it open. Immediately, a chorus of panic came from the levels they’d bypassed, and Leon cursed under his breath before running past Chris and onto the castle wall while Chris slammed the doors shut behind them and heard an odd sound, like something falling locked. Then there was a barrage of fists against the doors and Chris realized there had been a trap, but some idiot had forgotten to close the door right and activate it. That— was way more luck than Chris was used to having. 

“Chris, hurry!”

Chris pulled himself away from the lucky break and followed Leon across the wall path, heading into the keep. Leon skidded to a stop at the mob that was here to distract them, more useless priests that were just cannon fodder at this point. “We don’t have time for this!” Leon growled as he whipped up the Mauser and fired into the thick of it, Chris doing the same with the MP5 and hating how slowly they killed. The seconds crept by, Chris growing more and more anxious as the stubborn fuckers refused to die quietly, swinging their maces and droning in their mindless cult drivel. Leon was growing more frustrated by the moment, and when the last one stumbled while Leon’s Mauser clicked empty, Leon dove forward, and round-house kicked the priest, the weakened skull exploding in a shower of blood and infected brains. 

Chris had to replay that in his head in slow motion, the second Leon brought his leg up parallel with his body and broke a man’s skull open with his foot seared into his brain. That shouldn’t be hot. Why was that hot?

Because Leon was opening up to him again and Chris couldn’t help but feel some measure of hope, that was why.

“Come on!” Leon beckoned, already moving on, bounding up the stairs to the ornate door that looked like it cost a couple hundred thousand to make. Leon ran at it and threw it open with his shoulder, and— “Ashley!”

Chris bounded in behind Leon, saw Ashley on her knees with the blades held on either side of her neck. “Leon!” She gasped, shaking. “Ch-Chris, please!”

Beyond her, _in a throne like a king,_ Salazar laughed. “Misters Redfield and Kennedy,” he greeted diplomatically. “Don’t you know when it’s time to throw in the towel?”

Salazar slammed his had into a button.

_The ground opened up beneath their feet._

Leon didn’t scream as they were suddenly plummeted below, and before Chris could even react, there was an arm around his waist and their drop was ended with a harsh jolt of their bodies. The air was knocked from his lungs, but he felt somehow safe even as he stared down at the spikes they were meant to have been impaled on, Leon’s arm firm around his hips. “Won’t fall for this old trick,” Leon griped as he hoisted Chris up a little more to get a hand on Rot and fire a bullet up the hole they’d been dropped, the shot hitting a bell that earned a shriek of pain from high above. Chris craned his neck to see—

They were suspended from a strong cable, the wire keeping them safe. God, how had Leon thought so quickly? “You’re fucking incredible,” Chris gasped, unable to to keep his thoughts to himself after having his life saved by Leon S. Kennedy in such glorious fashion. His blood was racing in his veins, something surging beyond respect and admiration, a genuine _desire_ that had no place in Chris’s thoughts right now. Chris squirmed in Leon’s grip, scared too move to much and risk being dropped. Above them, Salazar was throwing a fit, Leon’s attention trained on their enemy rather than Chris having a moment of panic of his own as he became hyperaware of Leon’s body pressed against his, the strain of Leon’s arm being the only thing keeping him up. Leon was so _warm_. 

Then a single word broke through Chris’s thoughts, a cry of: _“Kill!”_

“Shit,” Leon breathed. “We need a way out.”

Chris looked around and saw an opening. “There,” he said, pointing it out to Leon with care to keep from jostling him too much. “I can reach it.” The ledge was within grasping distance for him. “Once I’m on solid ground, kick off the wall to me and I’ll catch you.”

“Not the fucking sewers again,” Leon griped, but loosened his grip around Chris’s waist as Chris grabbed the edge of the opening and dropped Chris when he knew the grip was solid. Chris climbed into the chasm— the hall, the fucking sewers as Leon had said— and then reached back. Leon took Chris’s hand in his own and kicked off from the wall, the cable falling away from the wall just as Chris yanked Leon forward and into his chest. Now he was the one holding Leon, his arms around Leon’s torso, keeping the man steady as Leon’s balance wavered from the sudden dizzying drop that Chris had saved him from. Leon’s hand clenched the front of Chris’s vest and he shuddered out a breath. 

“This fucking sucks,” Leon grumbled, voice a bare whisper and yet easily audible with how they were pressed together. That desire surged back into the forefront of Chris’s mind again, and he carefully maneuvered Leon into the hall, putting distance between them once Leon was safe. “God, I was so scared I wouldn’t grab you in time.”

The thought of Leon S. Kennedy failing to save him had never even occurred to Chris.

Leon’s communicator shrieked. The poor man had a moment of anger, kicking the stone wall, before bringing the device to his ear. 

_“So maybe you have nine lives— but it doesn’t matter now, Mr. Kennedy! I’ve sent my right hand to dispose of you!”_

Leon’s upper lip curled. “Your right hand comes off?”

Chris choked on his own tongue.

Salazar made a noise of disdain. _“Say whatever you please! Die you worm!”_

The transmission shut off with the clatter of furniture and equipment. Leon smirked, outwardly proud of himself. “You’re gonna give him an aneurism with your shit,” Chris warned Leon as they both turned and headed into the dark hall, the floor dropping down a few feet into knee high water that smelled like shit. They both dropped down into it and Chris scrunched his nose. “He’ll be dead and then where will we be?”

“Not stuck in the fucking sewers again,” Leon griped. “It’s so—” Leon cut off at the same time as Chris saw the glowing blue light. “Oh thank fuck,” Leon said as he strode forward through the waste, slowed by the knee-high sewage. “Fish!” Leon called out, audibly relieved. “Things went bad real fast, man.”

“So I see,” Fish replied as Chris and Leon joined him in the small corner of the sewer, his blue flame glowing on a stand beside him. “And may I suggest a bandage for the wounds?” He held out a .45 revolver that had Chris’s eyes going wide as saucers. “Buy yourselves something nice, am I right?”

“We’ll take it,” Leon said, folding out some cash and taking the revolver— only to hand it to Chris. At Chris’s look of surprise, Leon shrugged offhandedly, not responding. 

“Gotta get yer boyfriend a gift every once in a while, eh?”

Leon scowled at Fish’s question, but— well, he didn’t exactly deny it either. Chris really was bewildered by this sudden change in Leon, though he wasn’t complaining. He just wish he could ask why Leon was accepting him after being so stubbornly against Chris’s existence mere hours before. A change like that— it was worrisome, all things considered. 

“A word of advice.”

Fish’s voice had both Leon and Chris’s gazes snapping forward, knowing Fish’s advice was something to heed. Despite being unable to see the man’s face, he looked— nervous. 

“Down here? Don’t make a sound.”

Shit. Leon and Chris traded glances, not liking the sound of that. “We’ll keep quiet,” Leon replied, his voice already lowered. “You get yourself somewhere safe, Fish.”

Fish bowed his head and stepped back, an arm sweeping out in the direction they needed to go, a ladder that led above. Leon nodded to Chris, so he went up first, climbing the rungs cautiously and peering over the ledge into what looked like industry and reminded him a lot of Raccoon City, beneath the precinct, where power and air and water was handled. The flashbacks slammed into him, relating this grated hallway so intrinsically with the first time that Leon fought Dr. Birkin, that he was almost worried to bring Leon up here. He finished the climb and looked around with a grimace, already hating the situation they were heading into. Salazar was pretty pissed that they’d survived— he likely wasn’t going to pull anymore of his punches.

“Chris?”

The whisper from below had Chris leaning over the ledge and waving Leon up, the man coming when called. Leon instantly winced when he took in their surroundings and Chris knew he’d drawn the same similarities as Chris had. “Déjà vu,” Chris murmured low under his breath, which seemed to help Leon relax a little. At least they both had acknowledged the elephant in the room.

Chris began to move, his footsteps intensely loud on the metal grating they walked across, but comforting because he could hear Leon’s steps as well no matter how hard Leon tried to be quiet. They passed an elevator and— “No power,” Leon whispered after creeping forward to check the buttons, finding them unresponsive. “There’s a sign.” Chris saw it took, a metal sign reading “power” in English and pointing down the curved hall. As Chris began to follow it, he—

What was that?

Water beneath their feet, something coming towards them fast. Chris’s eyes went wide and he put a hand out to keep Leon back right as he stumbled away in time to avoid the _fucking tail_ that jut from the water, the tail itself sectioned and scaled like a skinned spinal column, a dagger-like protrusion at the end that would have loved to impale him. He didn’t allow himself to think, drawing his combat knife from his vest and swiping at the tail while it was within arm’s reach. Something howled in pain as the blade met bone and sliced cleanly, a shape in the darkness throwing its head back and writhing.

A hand was on him and yanking him from the spot, Leon darting ahead and dragging Chris along. The sound of rushing water followed them, the pursuit of this creature faster than they could move. Leon slammed to a halt without warning, arm thrown out to keep Chris from hurtling straight into the tail that shot from the grating again, the appendage whipping around like it had a mind of its own. Leon pulled up Rot and just shot at the damn thing, Chris flinching from the sound so close to his ear. The creature screamed and they were running again, rounding the curved hall and fleeing into a room that had solid ground and a lever for the power. Leon yanked the lever as Chris whirled around to bring his sights up and provide cover. “Fuck!” Leon shouted. “It’s gonna take a while! And the fucking door locks for some bullshit safety reason, we’re trapped!”

“How many bullets you got?”

“Not a lot.”

Chris was going to suggest handing back the rifle when he saw something move in the darkness. He fell dead silent, holding his breath, staring into the shadows and praying he wouldn’t hear Dr. Birkin’s nightmarish moaning, the man begging for help even though he was beyond saving. He expected a bulking figure, a tortured victim of his own pride, a freak of nature that had once been a man. The anticipation was making his hands shake. He saw another ghost in the darkness.

A monster dropped down from the shadows and Chris— couldn’t understand what he was seeing.

Taller than a man, humanoid in shape, but ribbed and carved with muscle and bone that made it look like it’d been skinned alive and painted black. The face was like a human skull, but with a missing jaw replaced by mandibles from a spider and the skull strangely more insect than human. The feet were arched off the ground like a dog’s, claws almost a foot long scraping the ground, and the hands were more weapons than anything else, the fingers curled forward like broken fingers and sharpening into points. And that tail— it arched lazily through the air like a fifth limb while the monster’s red, glowing eyes bore into Chris.

“Fuck,” Chris said, before bringing up the MP5 and laying everything he had into that ugly mug. The creature screamed and thrashed its arms out in fury as the bullets slugged into the exoskeleton that protected sinewy flesh. The monster stomped forward, barely slowed by the volley, but Chris wouldn’t give up the ground. Not so long as he was between this monster and Leon. 

Then the tail swiped out and knocked Chris hard as the dagger end dragged a gash into his bare arm and sent blood pouring. He knocked his head _badly_ on a metal pole and laid there, a little dazed, while someone shouted his name and gunfire covered the absence of his own. Hands took him by the shoulders, pulling him to his feet and dragging him back. He felt dizzy and a little nauseous, and the roaring of the monster was melding with the memories of this place, of Raccoon City, beneath the precinct and watching Leon fight alone.

_Watching Leon fight alone._

Chris shook himself and pulled the .45 caliber revolver from its holsters on his side and turned the sights up at the monster that was nearly on top of them, Leon’s bullets doing little, but—

The first .45 slamming into the thing sent it stumbling backwards and Leon’s gasp of relief in Chris’s ear was a godsend. There was a loud buzz from beyond and green light flared in the dark room, the door unlocked. “We have to go,” Leon said into Chris’s ear. “Stand, get up, we have to go.”

The creature leaped into an opening in the ceiling, escaping into the ventilation, giving them little time. Chris hoisted himself to his feet, wobbly from the knock on his head and his arm aching. Leon was pulling insistently at his clothes and Chris still wasn’t fully aware of his surroundings. The ground beneath his feet turned like waves and—

Chris nearly fell as he was suddenly moving again, Leon leading him out of the room and into the hall that had too many places for this monster to surprise them. Their feet on the grating with the rushing water below made him feel like he could throw up. Leon was supporting his weight, mumbling something, sounding panicked, and then there was a yelp and Chris and Leon were thrown away from each other, that tail coming down between them and narrowly missing skewering Leon. That knife of Leon’s flashed as it cut through the tail and the creature shrieked. “The elevator!” Chris heard Leon say in a moment of clarity. “Chris, go!”

Chris stumbled off from the wall and blinked the stars from his vision, immediately falling back to the wall for support as he followed the order. He struggled to put one foot in front of the other as he heard Leon fight the creature, and Chris cursed himself for being so fucking useless, but even he was aware that whatever had been done to his head was much more serious than he wanted to consider. The shadows danced in his eyes and he stumbled and fell into the elevator just as it came up to their level. He hit the floor and dry heaved, the nausea overcoming him in droves, stomach acid burning his throat. The battle behind him was distant and disorientating and he couldn’t—

Leon’s voice crying out in pain shot through Chris like medicine. He turned over, bringing up the .45 and firing three huge slugs into the monster that had Leon pinned to the floor. Those three shots pierced the weakened skull of the creature already in its death throes and it fell back with a final wail of pain, collapsing to the ground, limbs curling inward like a spider’s corpse. Chris dropped back onto the floor of the elevator, giving in to the pain only now that he knew the thing was dead. Footsteps rattled the cage and the elevator door was swung shut as Leon knelt in Chris’s line of sight and pulled him up. 

“Chris, your head.”

Chris blinked up at the man and told himself not to kiss Leon S. Kennedy because in no reality was that a good idea after everything they’d done to each other. “Arm hurts,” he rasped. “Head— need rest.”

Leon just nodded and laid Chris back gently, the sound of plastic popping before Chris felt the gouge in his arm sting from being touched and wrapped. Chris smiled dazedly and said, “You’ve always got first aid.”

“Since I was a kid,” was Leon’s response, dampening Chris’s smile, but—

“I had bandaids on me always,” he told the ceiling of the elevator. “Claire— climbed trees a lot. Big ones, tall, way bigger than her. She was good at climbing. Bad at getting back down. She jumped half the time. Always said she wasn’t afraid of the fall. That she knew I’d be there.”

The sound of Leon working with Chris’s wound soothed the panic of the fight Chris had been useless in, though not for lack of trying. Leon listened quietly and Chris could just barely see the blond locks shining in the dim light of the elevator in his peripherals. “She always said she knew I’d be there,” he continued softly. “So I started carrying around bandaids. Because I wanted to be there— didn’t want to let her down.” Chris wet his lips, his mouth dry. “When our parents died, I was sixteen. Dropped out of school, got my GED, worked in fast-food and moved us around so the system wouldn’t catch up and take her away from me. And then, when I turned eighteen, I joined the military and got legal custody of her.” 

He felt himself start to smile for real again. “And when she smiled at me after the judge said she was mine— she told me that she knew I’d be there. That she was never afraid because she knew— she knew.”

Chris turned his head to Leon, who was watching him with hooded eyes. Chris pulled on that bright smile that his sister sometimes said made him look too young and lifted his good arm, sluggish fingers tapping at Leon’s knee. “You’d be a good brother, Leon. I wish you and Claire could have kept being friends.”

“You have a concussion,” Leon said, words stiff.

“Only a small one.”

“It’s still serious.”

Chris blinked slowly. “You’re not leaving me behind.”

“You’re right,” Leon agreed. “It’s too dangerous and I don’t know where we’re going.” Gentle fingers carded through Chris’s hair and his brow furrowed as his addled brain insisted Leon was the one touching him even when that didn’t make a lot of sense. “We’ll go slow,” Leon promised him. “Get some rest. I think we’ve got a ways down to go.” Then Leon was reaching up and hitting a button, the elevator jolting and beginning to descend slowly. Chris shut his eyes and focused on the fingers in his hair, letting himself recuperate with what little time they had.

. . .

Watching Leon work was a little like magic. 

Being in the rear again gave Chris plenty of time to observe and feel less like he wasn’t allowed to look. Countless ganados, a psycho with a chainsaw, these two beasts that Leon called _El Gigante,_ and Chris was only once again facing the reality that Leon S. Kennedy was a force to be reckoned with and if Chris ever got in a fight with the guy, he probably wouldn’t win. Watching Leon climb the back and swipe at the parasite of an actual honest to god _giant_ only solidified Chris’s faith in the man’s abilities. It was awful to know what Leon had suffered, but _god_ , was it incredible to see what he’d become. Rising from the ashes didn’t even begin to cover the change Leon had gone through in becoming the most dangerous man in this war. Chris— admired him.

Chris’s concussion was slowly improving, and leaving the mines for the night air seemed to do wonders for his focus, the poorly filtered air of the underground having left him feel out of sorts of clammy. Being in the open air again had helped a lot, getting more rest as Leon had convinced him to stay behind whilst Leon had gone to get the “Lion’s Sacrifice” or whatever it was. From there they’d had to handle this— huge statue of Salazar that _walked,_ like some Japanese mecha overflowing with arrogance and had chased them across this bridge, or was—

“Chris, jump!”

Chris was thrown back into himself, no longer existing in a haze as the ground gave way beneath his feet and he just barely made the jump in time, throwing himself across the chasm that was made as Salazar’s robotic effigy caused the collapse of the bridge. Chris’s hand flailed in empty air before Leon grabbed him by the wrist, holding on tight as the huge statue plummeted below, Chris dangling in that nothing, the only thing saving him being Leon’s grip on his wrist. Chris gasped for breath as he recollected himself, then grabbed the ledge with his bad arm, lifting himself up with effort while Leon helped as well. 

“Jesus,” Leon breathed, frayed at the edges. “Is this how you felt when I got lost in my head?”

“I have an excuse,” Chris fumbled out, lips still feeling a little numb, but he was no longer nauseous or dizzy and he stood on his own feet well enough. Chris barely even wobbled as he let go of Leon’s hand, and—

“Leon,” Chris said in gentle shock. “Your eyes.”

Leon’s expression shuttered with panic, but Chris quickly continued. “They’re blue again.” Gorgeous blue, endless depths that reminded Chris of the sky or the ocean or the gentle warmth he dreamed of when he’d run himself ragged. 

Leon faltered. He reached towards his own face and paused. “Oh,” was all he said after a long moment. “Maybe— maybe it’s not as bad as I thought.”

“Ada’s note,” Chris reminded Leon. “The one we found? Back out of the mine.” He barely remembered a word of it save the hope she’d given him for Leon’s wellbeing. “She said there was a way to cure you.” He’d never had any doubts, after all, because a reality where Leon couldn’t be saved was impossible to consider. “She’d said Ashley was injected before you and her side effects aren’t nearly as severe. You’ve got more time than you think.”

“Or they injected me with a different strain,” Leon argued. “They want her to make it back to the states— they want me dead.”

 _“You should prepare yourself for the worst case scenario,”_ had been Ada’s last line, the note seal with a kiss in red lipstick. Chris refused to believe Leon was any worse off than Ashley, and those blue eyes returning only have him hope. “It’ll be okay,” he promised Leon beyond reasonable ability. “Ada Wong knows a way to cure you and that’s what matters.”

“She could be lying.”

“Why would she?”

Leon shrugged. “Wouldn’t be the first time. And we’re not allies.”

“She cares about you,” and that much was obvious, no matter how much Chris disliked it. Leon had been the one to say Ada Wong wouldn’t be able to make the shot, and he’d been right. And her last words to them— _“Take care of him, Chris.”_ Chris wasn’t a fan of the woman in any sense of the word, but he still felt a lingering guilt at failing her final request of him. She’d been thinking of Leon in a way that Chris hadn’t expected. She’d had some sort of genuine affection for Leon, gun to the man’s back or not. “She wouldn’t lie. Not about this.”

“You’ve got a lot of faith in one of Wesker’s lackeys,” Leon pointed out with a scowl that wasn’t directed at Chris. “I thought you were supposed to never let her touch me again.”

The kiss in the cable car. Chris grimaced. “You— don’t need me to protect you anymore.”

Leon seemed surprised by Chris’s. “D-damn right,” he said, stuttering over the response that lacked the confidence it was meant to exude. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Fine, I’m fine,” Chris rushed to assure even as his head throbbed a complaint. But, “I’ve dealt with way worse and kept going.”

Leon’s expression became grim. “The stomach wound. Three years ago?”

Chris blinked stupidly up at him. How— 

Before the BSAA had been more than a pipe dream, Chris and Jill and Barry had infiltrated an Umbrella testing facility called “The Planet” in the lonely desert of Utah. Things had gone south faster than Chris normally expected of those kind of ops and one of the man horrific creatures manufactured by Umbrella— specifically, a “Dac”— has sunken its claws into Chris’s stomach, leaving four clean puncture wounds, one in his back above his hip, and the other three in the soft flesh of his stomach. His vital internal organs had been missed, though he’d lost a chunk of his small intestine to the surgery that had played damage control after he’d been dragged out by Barry. Leon hadn’t been there for any of that and it had been an unofficial, unregulated, _unapproved_ operation. How did Leon—

“I told you I was keeping an eye on all of you.” Leon huffed and looked to the tall campanile behind them, the only place left that Ashley could be. “Are you sure you’re good to keep going?”

Chris made himself grin, but the grin fell away when he forgot that it was _Leon_ he was trying to lie to. Anyone else— even Jill— would buy the smile, but Leon would see right through it in a heartbeat, and the look in Leon’s eyes told Chris that lying was the stupidest thing he could do. “My head hurts,” he told Leon. “And I don’t think my aim is gonna be anything to brag about. But I can stand on my own and I can keep going and that’s what matters.”

Leon grimaced. Then he pulled the shotgun down from his back and held it out. “Trade me,” he ordered. “If you can’t aim for shit, might as well make the hit box a little more forgiving, right?”

Chris brought out the rifle and switched weapons with Leon. “I appreciate the accommodation, Sir,” he said cheekily. Leon rolled his eyes and slung the rifle over his back. He stepped away from the ledge, watching Chris carefully, but Chris refused to be anything less than useful, so he strode after Leon with purpose, heading to the tall tower with his jaw set. Only then did Leon seem to actually believe him. He gave Chris a short nod and they headed for the campanile together, side by a side, a brisk jog with heads down, both of them wary of the open sky surrounding and the possibility of scopes being trained on them from above. Chris almost thought he saw a flock of crows. 

They reached the doors in unison, shoulders hitting the wall on opposite sides. For a second, Chris wanted to ask how Leon’s shoulder was— if it had healed from the bullet wound and if he had his full range of motion. Chris had barely recovered completely from the Tyrant’s claws through his own shoulder and the bite was still there. He wondered if Leon’s Raccoon City wounds still left their lingering marks.

Wait, fuck, wondering shit was Leon’s thing, not his. God, his _head._

“On my count,” Leon whispered, cocking his head to the door before raising three fingers and counting down the numbers. As Leon’s hand became a fist, the two of them ducked forward as one, both driving their boots into the wooden door and kicking it in, guns raised.

The interior was gorgeous, Chris would have to give Los Illuminados that. He’d always been sad to see gorgeous architecture and history laid to waste for the sake of global terrorism. Inside the campanile, a huge circular room spanned out in front of them, loggia stairways spanning the sides of the room and reaching up into the bell tower. The room was stone and gold and intricately carved, a huge chandelier hanging from the center, this entire place artwork in its own right. The archways and columns that spanned the floor drew Chris’s eye first.  
Salazar standing in the center of the room with his surviving henchman at his side was a close second.

Salazar clapped derisively, sneering. “So nice you could join us, Mr. Scott Kennedy. Mr. _Redfield._ ”

“You again,” Leon snarled.

“Hey, you’re actually on the ground,” Chris said dumbly. “You’re a lot shorter than you look.” Apparently the concussion was still taking its toll on him. Leon was so close to Chris that he actually felt the smaller man’s shoulders shakes with some sort of effort. Maybe he should apologize. “Sorry.”

Salazar gave Chris a withered look as he started to pace, hands folding elegantly behind his back, a toddler trying to convince Mommy and Daddy that he could stay up past bedtime. “The sacred rites about to begin at this tower shall endow the girl with magnificent power! She will join us, become one of us!” Salazar spread his arms, hunched forward.

“Definitely a gremlin,” Chris murmured.

Leon jerked his head to the side, then stepped forward. “This is no ritual,” Leon spat. “It’s terrorism!”

“Isn’t that a popular word these days?” Salazar asked as he strode to a nearby column, standing in front of it and looking at Leon like Leon was the dirt beneath his shoes. “Don’t worry,” the gremlin-hybrid said, lifting a hand in the air. “We’ve prepared a special ritual for you.”

Leon flung his knife into the meat of Salazar’s hand so quickly that Chris hadn’t even seen him move.

Salazar was dead silent. Then he slowly looked to where his hand was pinned to the stone column— _Leon had thrown the knife hard enough to pierce bone and stone_ — the knife dead center in his palm. Salazar let out a few whiny sobs that could have been laughter, shaking and watching his fingers move like he didn’t recognize the limb. Beside him, Leon scoffed and Chris looked to the Agent in stunned admiration. Then Leon’s eyes went wide and he shoved Chris back, both of them narrowly dodging the knife that had once been in Salazar’s hand, then thrown at them by the henchman. The knife imbedded itself in the wooden door behind them and Salazar clutched his bleeding hand to his body, whimpering pathetically. The henchman brought Salazar into a traction elevator, the door slamming shut and the elevator ascending before Chris and Leon could react.

“Shit!” Leon cursed, looking up the tower. “We’ve got a long way to go— you good?”

“You’re so fucking cool,” Chris almost slurred. Leon stared at him like Chris had lost his mind. “I’m good.” He stepped back and pulled Leon’s knife from the door, looking it over with a critical eye. “This is a gorgeous knife,” he told Leon. “Really fucking amazing. I’ve never seen anything like it. Where did you get it?”

As he handed the knife back to Leon, he realized the man had suddenly lost color. Chris winced, realizing this was probably one of those things he wasn’t allowed to ask about. “Or not,” he covered gracelessly. “It’s— none of my business. Sorry. Again.”

Leon held the knife in a hand that wavered and slipped the blade out of sight, out of mind. “Let’s go,” he ordered, voice a little scratchy. “We need to catch up. If they do whatever they hell they planned with Ashley, there’s no telling how impossible it’ll be to cure her. Ada said we’re on limited time as is.”

“Then let’s hurry,” Chris agreed, not missing the relief on Leon’s face as he ducked away and headed for the staircase that hugged the tower walls and spiraled upwards. Chris sprinted after him, neither of them even slowing for the priests that tried to get in their way, Chris and Leon mowing them down with oppressive fire and running past them before they’d even finish dying. Chris’s body ached and his muscles screamed for more rest, but Ashley was above and they were so close to getting her and finally going home. He was tired of the cold castle and the echo of his feet on stone, tired of the mazes and traps, tired of the fight, tired of it all, _he wanted to go home_ and bring Leon with him and know that everything was okay, they’d made it out, they were safe. He just wanted to go home.

But more than that, Chris wanted to fucking murder Salazar.

They reached the top of the tower and Fish was waiting for them.

“Now Redfield is the one looking worse for wear,” Fish cackled, eyes twinkling with what Chris hoped was mirth. “You boys think you’re ready for this?”

“Do you have anything for him?” Leon demanded, stepping forward and already reaching into his back pocket for what little money he had left. Chris knew there wasn’t much, but his head was too foggy to really say otherwise. “Anything at all.”

Fish held out a pair of pills. “What is that?” Leon asked. “Epinephrine? They come in pills?”

“Tylenol.”

Leon cursed, but held out the last of his funds anyways, saying, “I’ll take it.”

Now Chris knew Fish was smiling. “On the house, Agent.”

Leon didn’t even try to argue, he just took the pills and passed them to Chris, his sharp blue eyes ordering Chris to take them, which he did. Swallowing pills dry had always been his least favorite thing in the world. 

“You know what you’re about to face,” Fish said enigmatically. “Any last words?”

“Give me the street sweeper.”

Fish threw his head back with a laugh and whipped the American-made Striker from behind himself. “You got a Federal Destructive Device Permit, friend?”

“We’re not stateside,” Leon said as he took the heavy-duty gun and held it at the ready while he pushed the bills into Fish. “They can’t get on me for doing what I have to do. They want Ashley back?” Leon grinned wolfishly at the gun, eyes glimmering with excitement. “They’re gonna get her.”

“Attaboy,” Fish hummed. “And Redfield?” Fish whipped out a riot gun— a custom Benelli M3 Super 90— and Chris felt like it was Christmas. “Both of you— show that little shit who’s in charge round these parts.”

“Make the world a little safer,” Chris replied thoughtlessly. “That’s my motto.”

“It is?”

Leon’s question had Chris rethinking what he’d—

“Let’s move,” Leon interrupted. “Wouldn’t want to keep that gremlin waiting.”

Chris grinned sharply. “On me?”

Leon smirked back. “On you.”

Fish squinted. “What am I seeing here?”

“Let’s kick his ass,” Chris growled before turning to the huge gate that led back into the campanile, returning to the cold with a new gun and vengeance on his mind. Too fucking long had Lord Salazar yanked them around like toys, throwing countless enemies at them like he cared little for life in general. A fucking monster that needed to be put down by Leon S. Kennedy and Chris Redfield, just like the old days. Chris’s grin was splitting his face and it refused to die even as he and Leon stepped into the bell tower chamber and looked up at—

Jesus christ, it was just a pulsating beak of flesh. Salazar and his last henchman stood on a lifted platform that had a stone slab made for human sacrifice surrounded by glowing purple flame in front of them, both figures staring into the parasite that clung to the wall beyond. The thing on the wall looked like an orchid, similar to Plant 42 and 43 back in Raccoon City, but decidedly more disturbing from the fact that it writhed like skinned muscles, twitching on the wall, veins of flesh keeping it suspended. Chris almost threw up when he first saw it.

Salazar turned and spotted them over his shoulder. “Ah! You just missed her. The ritual is over! She left with my men to an island!”

“What?!” Leon shouted, staggering forward. Chris scowled and his finger hovered over the trigger of the Benelli, wishing he could put a spray of shrapnel into this fucker. Ashley was already gone? Then they had to take Salazar out quick and pursue her. 

Salazar walked up the steps onto the sacrificial alter. “I think it’s time I paid my due respects to your impressive and _stubborn_ will.” The orchid-like mouth pried itself open and tentacles of disgusting rot whipped forward, wrapping around Salazar’s tiny body. “Mr. Redfield— Mr. Kennedy— _welcome._ ” The tentacles pulled Salazar into the air and into that horrific beak of a mouth that gusted rancid air, more tendrils coming out to grab the last henchman as well. Salazar laughed as he was devoured.

The mouth closed. The creature pulsed.

“Oh fuck,” Leon said, stepping closer to Chris. “This isn’t good.”

The mouth burst open, a long protrusion like a tongue shoving into the wall above them, sending rubble crumbling. The end of the tongue had become a face, the broken jewels of the henchman the only recognizable feature. Tentacles burst into the room, two huge ones that could easily toss a bus, and then, from the mouth itself, Salazar screamed to life, half of his body consumed by flesh and infection, the other half showcasing his naked body and gleaming red eye. 

“Monsters,” Leon griped. 

Chris nodded. “I guess after this, there will be one less to worry about.”

“Don’t let it snatch you up,” Leon ordered, more for preliminary’s sake. They’d both fought their fair share of devils— Salazar was nothing new and Chris wasn’t about to cower beneath the stolen might of coward. “Aim for the henchman’s face and then Salazar when we get a shot. You draw the attention and let me take care of Salazar with the rifle. Aim for the eyes.”

“On you, Leon,” Chris said, that grin still splitting his face. 

Leon let out the tiniest of laughs and Chris knew neither of them were afraid— how could they be when they were fighting together? “On me.”

They both broke away, rolling out of the reach of one of the large tentacles, the ground shaking but doing little to throw them off balance. Chris brought up the Benelli and fired into the quivering flesh, squeezing his lips shut so no blood or puss would get in his mouth. He ducked low as the tentacle thrashed and tried to swipe him off his feet, rolling out of reach and firing three more times, steadily approaching and watching the tentacle writhe as more and more of it was torn away by the shells. A waste of bullets, until it brought the attention of the henchman, that diseased eye staring down at Chris and—

Getting an orb full of shrapnel when Chris stared right back and squeezed the trigger. The tongue dropped down to recover and beyond, Salazar was exposed. Chris watched Leon lined up his sights and fire into the face of that little shit, both of them relishing the noises of pain. Leon got in a few more shots before the henchman was rearing its ugly face again. Chris ran for it, skidding to a halt at the ledge and firing the shells into the bulbous eye that spewed sewage, disgusting runoff splattering down on Chris’s body. The henchman roared and thrashed and slammed itself down onto the ground, Chris just narrowly leaping out of the way in time. The tongue fell away again, leaving Salazar in the open, and the ring of Leon’s shots were comforting as Chris turned his attention to the tentacle on the right, buying Leon time. But then he heard Leon’s shout of, “Out of rifle ammo!” and there was an answering scream. Chris looked over his shoulder and—

Chris sprinted for Leon, getting an arm around the man’s waist and slamming him to the ground just as the henchman threw itself across their battlefield, a sweep of destruction that rattled the walls of the tower. Chris kept Leon beneath him and tight to his chest as stone and glass rained around them, shielding Leon from the worst of it with his own body. A chunk of jagged rock hit Chris hard in the ribs and he cried out in pain, but didn’t falter once the ground stopped moving, going up on his knees to fire three shots into the henchman that loomed above them both. The tongue squirmed and dropped away, giving Chris a few seconds to looked down at Leon splayed out on the ground beneath him, seeing no wounds and only the dazed reverence Leon was staring up at him with.

“Are you hurt?” Chris demanded, refusing to succumb his focus to the depths of those blue eyes. 

Leon laughed shakily, the sound punched out of him as he replied, “Peachy.” Chris nodded and stood, grabbing Leon by the forearm and yanking him to his feet, and then reaching back for the .45 and shoving it into Leon’s hand. 

“Same plan,” Chris ordered. “Eyes up, Kennedy.”

“On you, Redfield,” Leon returned before bringing up the Colt and firing at the tentacle that swung a little too closely. They broke away again, seamless and acting as one, Chris drawing attention again and bringing the henchman to uselessness so Salazar was exposed to Leon’s barrage of high caliber bullets, the little gremlin shrieking his agony. A few more shots and Salazar’s shriek turned into a wail, his ruined body disintegrating and molding over, rotting before their eyes. The henchman and tentacles decayed as well, a revolting stench filling the tower and leaving Chris gagging. 

“Why can’t the shit that looks like a flower from hell actually smell like a flower?” he complained as Leon dropped his arm and stumbled back, adrenaline dying from the younger man’s body in waves. “Just smells like hell— what happened to the flower part?”

“Ashley got taken to an island,” Leon said. “I know it’s not exactly efficient, but I wouldn’t mind swimming just to get this shit off of me.”

They met eyes and grinned. “Nice shooting, Leon.” Leon ducked his head, almost bashful, and turned his eyes ahead. 

“We need to get moving,” Leon said, heading for the door that had been revealed by Salazar’s decay. “Chris, how’s your head?”

“Do you think severity of a concussion relates to intelligence?”

Leon looked only more concerned. Chris winced and ran a hand over his face, taking stock, going through his body and cataloguing every aching muscle. The fucking ceiling had nearly come down on him. He wished this night was over, but he couldn’t do anything about that. “I’m fine,” he promised Leon. “I am. I wouldn’t— If I wasn’t, I would tell you. The last thing I want to do is put you at risk.” The concern faded into something unnamable and Leon turned to face ahead. “I’ll tell you if I can’t keep going.”

“You fucking better.” Leon moved forward without another word and shoved open the doors, the night air hitting them both and filling their lungs with relief, the stench forced from their thoughts by the smell of the ocean beyond. Leon went out onto the stone balcony and peered over the ledge, making a small noise. “I think I see a dock!” he called back to Chris, who was just behind him and regaining his bearings with the cool air. “There’s gotta be a way to get to the island down there.” Leon turned away and spotted an elevator, nodding sharply to Chris, beckoning him to follow. They both clambered into the industrial lift, Chris leaning a little more heavily onto the rails than he normally would, Leon watching him like a hawk. 

Chris grinned and waved at Leon from across the lift. It was bizarre to think he’d been so afraid of those eyes on him back when he’d first come to Spain. He would’ve found it odd how quickly he and Leon had come back together, but being in a war zone changed men in the strangest of ways. “I’m okay,” he insisted. “Not even dizzy anymore. Just tired.”

“I promise, we’ll be out of here soon.”

“I know,” Chris replied as the lift shuddered to a halt. “I trust you, Leon.”

Leon gave him another nod and fell away and out of the elevator, leading Chris through a dark, stone hallway and—

Leon suddenly snapped to the wall, bringing up Rot even though the gun likely had next to nothing in it, his arm out to keep Chris from advancing past him. Chris could see the beginnings of a dock in front of them, water lapping lazily at manmade walls, and wondered what Leon had seen. Leon gave him a pointed look before rounding the corner, gun at his shoulder and ready. Chris followed, nerves raised.

Then he scowled when he saw Ada fucking Wong sitting pretty in a speedboat. She turned to face them, a playful grin tugging at her stained lips, and asked, “Need a ride, boys?”

Leon took a faltering step back into Chris, glancing to him over his shoulder. Chris wanted to give a solid fucking _no,_ but— “Don’t have many options,” he pointed out to Leon, and he knew Leon would understand just how far gone things had to be for Chris to be arguing in favor of accepting Ada’s help. After everything she’d done back in Raccoon City and since, working with _fucking Wesker,_ selling the viruses. But they didn’t have any other way. There was only one boat and Ada had the keys. Chris pulled on a grim face as Leon looked back to Ada, saying, “Alright.” Leon glanced back to Chris one more time before they both moved to clamber into the boat, Chris praying that this wasn’t a mistake.

. . .

The once-comforting cold air became unpleasantly like ice with how quickly it whipped past them in the speedboat, Ada Wong operating the machine steadily enough, but she’d insisted on Leon sitting up front with her, in the passenger seat beside her. Chris observed the woman sharply from the back bench, arms crossed over his chest, trying to exude danger when he was really trying to keep from shivering. Ahead of the boat loomed a huge island covered with industrial buildings and equipment, a modern contrast to the castle they’d just fought their way through. Chris didn’t like the look of the place, recognizing it to be more Wesker’s style than Saddler’s, and prayed they’d be in and out with Ashley as fast as possible. He was in no physical state to face down Wesker. 

“You’re not looking too hot, boys,” Ada simpered from where she smoothly directed the boat across the water. “Some might say you’re running a little low.”

“We’re fine,” Leon said tersely. “Just faced quite a few assholes with god complexes tonight. Definitely not excited to see one more.”“Maybe two.”

Leon’s gaze snapped to Ada as a bad feeling sunk in Chris’s gut. “Wesker?” Leon asked. “Is he here?”

“No,” Ada said. “But there is a certain snake itching to meet you.” While Chris was relieved just to know it wasn’t Wesker, Leon didn’t appear to agree. If anything, the man paled just slightly, eyes flitting through the air in quick thought. “I don’t know if you’re ready for it,” Ada sighed elegantly. “I know even I wouldn’t be, facing that kind of ghost.”

“What do you know?” Chris demanded, leaning forward. “If you know something, you—”

“I don’t owe a damn thing to either of you,” Ada interrupted cooly. “If anything, Chris Redfield, you have no right to preach about what’s right to me. Poor Leon here has suffered enough hypocrisy, don’t you think?”

Chris sat back and clenched his jaw, knowing she had a point. Chris had left Leon behind out of some sick desire to protect the kid and Ada— maybe was trying to do the same in her own way. She cared for Leon, that was as obvious as neon. She’d said as much before she’d dropped, telling Chris to take care of the man, and Chris had failed. If anything, Chris felt a lingering sense of guilt for not making good on the promise she’d asked of him. He wished he could hold his head high and say he’d done his best, but that would be a lie. 

“Knowing won’t help you,” Ada said as Leon stared out into the passing sea, the man’s shoulders tense. “Nothing can prepare you for what’s coming.”

There was a long pause among them, unease settling like a thick blanket of fog. Then Leon took his hand off his chin and turned to Ada, eyes wide and curious, his mouth opening to say something, maybe ask one of those questions that he always had running through his head, and— Ada fucking snapped the wheel, turned the boat sharply, sending Leon colliding with the wall, the man letting out a grunt of surprise. 

“Hey!” Chris shouted, snapping to his feet and taking the two chairs by the backs to bring himself forward so he could get into Ada’s face. “That was fucking uncalled—”

Ada laughed breezily and pulled the wheel again, this time throwing Chris and sending him right into Leon’s lap, his hands barely coming up in time to catch himself on the boat behind Leon before he crushed the kid beneath his weight. As the boat steadied, Chris found himself hovering above Leon, their mouths barely separated, only a shaky inch between them. The smaller man was pressed between Chris and the boat, Chris’s knee braced on the chair between Leon’s legs and close enough for Chris to feel the body heat radiating from Leon, those wide blue eyes staring up at Chris in shock before— they cut down to Chris’s lips, pupils flaring, Leon’s tongue darting out to wet his own lips. Chris knew those signs, knew what every little tick in Leon’s actions meant, and Chris shoved past his shock at realizing Leon stilled _wanted_ him to understand that this _was not the time nor the place._

“Sorry,” Chris muttered, pushing himself back onto his feet, clearing his throat and trying to keep from blushing tellingly. Ada looked like the queen of the world, side-eyeing Leon as Chris dropped back into his seat, mollified. Then Ada was pulling the boat up alongside a cliff, the huge rocky face towering above them, and she stood up and onto the seat, firing a grappling hook up into the air.

“Got some business to take care of,” she told them, eyes twinkling with mirth. “Have fun, boys.” 

She launched herself into the air, the boat suddenly spinning out of control with the driver’s seat vacant, and Leon and Chris both scrambled for the wheel, Leon dropping into the empty seat and grabbing one side while Chris pressed himself to the seat back and grabbed the other side from over Leon’s shoulder. They wrangled the boat into submission and barely avoided becoming mince meat on the side of the cliffs. Once they were steady again, Leon dropped his head back onto Chris’s shoulder and stared up into the sky, letting out a huff of frustration and griping, “Women.”

Chris could relate. He smiled regardless, thoughtlessly reaching up with his free hand to tangle his fingers in Leon’s hair and give him a pat on the head. “Let’s find a way in,” he told Leon, letting go of the wheel and dropping into the passenger seat with a sound of annoyance of his own. Once again, Ada Wong had proven herself to be completely careless towards Leon’s wellbeing. He wasn’t surprised and only grateful they’d both been fast enough. “That looks promising.” He pointed out a cave to the far right that Leon steered towards, taking the turns a lot more recklessly than Ada had. Jesus, who’d taught the kid to drive like he had nine lives? 

Leon brought them into the cave and stalled the engine, bringing them as close to the stone dock as he could. Chris grabbed the ledge and steadied the boat, jerking his head for Leon to get out first. The man pocketed the keys and climbed out, turning back to offer Chris a hand. Leon pulled him up and they stood nearly chest to chest, just taking stock of their surroundings and realizing they were in unknown territory, no longer lost in the familiar chaos of the castle. Leon took in a shaky breath that Chris felt in the man’s body and asked, “You ready for this?”

Chris grinned easily. “With you? Always.”

Leon’s communicator screeched, and for a moment, Chris almost thought they were within range of allies again. But pressing his finger to his ear brought only static, and Leon grimaced at the image on his device, holding it up for Chris to see. Saddler. God.

“I hate to break it to you, but Salazar is dead,” Leon told the psycho with more than a little satisfaction. 

_“Yes,”_ Saddler sighed. _“It seems that way.”_

Leon frowned, obviously not liking how easily Saddler had accepted the defeat. “Saddler, why don’t you give up and let Ashley go home?”

_“Perhaps you are disillusioned with overconfidence just because you killed my small-time subordinate?”_

Chris watched Leon’s frown morph into a scowl as the man said, “Saddler— you’re small-time.”

Saddler fucking laughed. _“Writhe in my cage of torment, my friend!”_

Saddler ended the call abruptly and Leon tucked away the communicator, shaking his head. “I don’t like this,” he confessed. “He’s way too confident. And if Salazar is considered small-time, then who else could he have? And what Ada said… The snake.” Leon looked almost distressed, not meeting Chris’s eyes. “I’ve got… a really bad feeling.”

Chris watched Leon’s hand rise to run his fingers tips across the tendon of his neck while his other hand stray to lay across his stomach almost like the younger man felt ill and _god_ , Leon’s bad feelings were always the worst. “It doesn’t matter what that asshole throws at us,” Chris said with his commander voice, the one he used when he had to encourage his men and women to follow him into hell. “We can handle it, Leon. We’ve fought bigger and come out stronger. We can do this.”

Leon looked to Chris with beseeching eyes, uncharacteristically vulnerable, and looking to Chris for confidence and comfort in a way he hadn’t done in six years. “Together?”

Chris stepped forward, letting Leon watch his hand as it moved through the air to rest on Leon’s shoulder, above the collarbone, his thumb against the fluttering pulse in Leon’s neck. Leon sank into the touch and Chris wished he’d kissed him back on the boat. To suddenly have Leon ready and willing to be what they’d been before— Chris couldn’t explain the sudden change and it almost scared him, but it didn’t matter. They had a lot to do and they didn’t have time for old feelings. Chris would just force himself to settle for the small touches he could steal now and feel hope for the conversation Leon had promised between them when all of this was over.

“Together,” Chris echoed. “I’ve got your back, Leon. Always.”

Leon smiled shakily, pressed into Chris’s hand, and then took a step away. “Let’s find Ashley,” he told Chris. “I’m pretty fucking tired of this place.”

Chris couldn’t agree more and followed Leon on the jagged path that led up the cliff face, one step closer to their nearest enemy and more than ready to face Saddler at Leon’s side.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i can't use the :eyes: emoji in excess like i wanna cause i'm on my laptop and honestly this is where technology has failed me the most so
> 
> EYES EYES EYES EYES EYES EYES EYES EYES EYES EYES EYES EYES EYES EYES EYES EYES EYES EYES EYES EYES
> 
> hope y'all uh
> 
> like it
> 
> tbh i've been anticipating this sincgle scene since i start writing this damn series so it's been *weeks* of baited breath for me oml i hope it's decent!!! thanks for reading :)

“This place is a nightmare,” Chris mumbled from behind Leon, the man still losing control of his filter a little, but never being wrong. This entire island was dark and clammy and cold, stone and industry, definitely more befitting of a modern day horror story. They’d already fought through an army of military-status Ganados, no longer waves and waves of haplessly-armed villagers, but genuine soldiers with full combat gear and weaponry worthy of the most well-funded militias and Leon— was getting really fucking concerned, because even though they were suddenly getting stocked up on bullets, that meant the enemy had twice as much at their disposal. Leon would rather run empty and face pitchforks than have excess clips but stare down a gun in the hands of his enemy. Some of these guys had fucking cattle prodders, the buzz of electricity grating Leon’s nerves. He hadn’t gotten shocked yet, but he had a bad feeling it was only a matter of time.

“This is where they took Ashley,” Chris told him once they’d finished clearing out this first stronghold, a twist of concrete buildings that reminded Leon a lot of his time in South America, fighting through an industrial dam. This place they were inside now was a maze of dimly lit hallways and disgusting equipment, sinks and lockers and living areas riddled with waste, and just as oppressively apocalyptic. It was a wonder he hadn’t been shoved back into Raccoon City like that fight with Salazar’s right hand had done. Leon was just relieved he still had his wits about him, even as his mind raced with fear. 

A snake. Ada had said a snake. The knife in Leon’s possession burned even when it didn’t touch his skin, the knife with the snake carved into the base of the blade where it fed into the handle. He— 

Krauser was _dead._

Please let Krauser be dead.

It would be bad enough to learn otherwise— but to meet the man again after two years and also have Chris beside him? Leon knew his life was shit, but he wanted to think that whatever God was in control of his hell scape didn’t despise him that much. His neck ached with the ghost of that day, the moment he’d died in Krauser’s hands, gasping for breath that the other man refused to give him, a death Leon had accepted because he’d been too broken to fight back. Leon was beyond that, he’d torn apart that broken shell that he’d been and built himself into someone stronger, someone _better,_ but it was undeniable that some evil part of Krauser had seeped its way into his very soul and had remained even as Leon had repaired himself. 

Leon would never be rid of the man.

“Fuck,” Chris suddenly said, tapping the toes of his boots on the ground. “I think I stepped in something. Do all of their heads explode into those tentacles now, the shit that whips about? I wonder what decides if they go into a second stage of infection or not.”

“Probably some rampant strain,” Leon theorized aloud, grateful for the distraction. “We’re likely going to be the first official agents to collect information on the Plaga. A lot of it will be sourced from our reports and what we collect from Luis. I can imagine you and I are going to be interrogated for _days_ about what we see here.”

Chris winced. Leon frowned. “What’s that look for?”

“Technically, the BSAA isn’t here in official capacity for the Plaga,” Chris said cautiously. “I’ve been sent in and I’m here, yes, but USSTRATCOM kept it classified. I’m not going to be reported as being here and my association and help with the operation will be a black mark. In fact, you’re probably going to be ordered to leave me out of your report entirely.”

Leon—

“Are you fucking kidding me?” he almost snarled, unable to keep the incredulous anger from his voice. “So what, I’m just supposed to pretend you never showed up? That none of this has anything to do with you? I’m supposed to pretend you don’t exist?!”

“To be fair, you really don’t seem to need me.” Chris could lay down all the compliments he wanted, Leon couldn’t _fucking believe_ the red tape these organizations operated under. “BSAA isn’t allowed to work in official capacity with an American Agency,” Chris explained apologetically. “We’re not even allowed on US soil.”

“You sound like Ada,” Leon accused heartlessly. Chris didn’t even seem bothered by the harshness, likely because he knew _exactly_ who he sounded like. “God— so I’m supposed to leave here and pretend you don’t know me again? Or that I don’t know you?”

“I don’t know if it would be like that,” Chris said. “If we can get you out of STRATCOM and into BSAA, there’s a good possibility we don’t have to keep everything in the dark anymore. But so long as we’re on polar forces of the political spectrum since the US is just so fucking stubborn and you might as well not exist, it’ll be a problem.”

Chris— wanted Leon to leave USSTRATCOM? He couldn’t do that. Sherry was about to head into university and she needed the support of her foster family and the funding of the stipend the government had set up for her so long as Leon was within their service. Leon was going to be STRATCOM or _something_ until Sherry had achieved whatever she wanted academically, Leon couldn’t just up and quit. Hell, he was pretty sure he’d signed away his life so completely that leaving STRATCOM even after Sherry had graduated wasn’t an option. Leon hadn’t exactly been in the psychological state to understand the fine print. For all Leon knew and could tell, he was a soldier of the government until the day he died screaming. Leon opened his mouth to tell Chris that leaving STRATCOM was impossible when—

“Wait,” Chris suddenly said, eyes going wide. “Do you hear that?”

Leon didn’t, not at first, but when he shut his eyes and trained his ears, pushing past that ever-present hum of electricity, he heard—

_“Help!”_

“Ashley,” Leon said, more than a little relieved. He opened his eyes in time to see Chris grinning at him and smiled back. “She’s still fighting. Atta girl.”

“She’s pretty fucking badass for the president’s daughter.”

“She’s American— we’re all pretty fucking stubborn.”

“You would know,” Chris said teasingly as they both turned to follow the sound of her voice, most of their attention on her. “I’m technically not an American citizen anymore— all about that BSAA international life. Though they will be opening up a North America branch. Gonna be in Canada, eh?”

“You’re too scary for Canada,” Leon teased as he checked around a corner for any enemies and saw none. “Fuck, do you think they’ve got her locked away somewhere?” He really hoped they wouldn’t have to find a key in this place, there were so many twists and turns that Leon had barely avoided getting lost. Leon turned another corner and squeezed Rot’s trigger in time to bring down the guerrilla Ganado that was in front of him, Leon stepping back and shielding himself and Chris from the small explosion that came from the stick grenade the asshole had tried to lob at them. After the room shook with the shockwave, Leon pealed himself from where he’d pinned Chris to the wall to keep shrapnel from hitting him, and then ducked into the cleared room, searching the corners and seeing—

“Surveillance,” he told Chris, stepping forward to the screens that were showing camera footage from somewhere in this place. One screen caught his eye, a familiar figure banging incessantly at the doors of a cell. “Ashley,” he breathed, even more relieved to see her in one piece than he’d been to hear her voice. Chris stood beside him, both of them looking over the girl just to ensure she hadn’t been injured. But as they watched, a Ganado stepped into view, took the girl by the shoulder and flung her harshly to the floor. Leon grit his teeth and Chris cursed under his breath as the Ganado looked into the camera and shouted something to someone else just before the feed cut off. 

“Tch,” Leon said. “Amateurs.” Then, “Just hang in there, Ashley.”

“We’re coming for you,” Chris agreed, flexing his grip on the MP5. They mowed through the facility together, trading off taking corners and keeping close enough to share body heat, though for more than just fighting the chill of this place. Leon had almost kissed Chris on the boat, he knew that the attraction between them was as alive and passionate as ever, but whatever had stopped Chris from leaning in and sealing their lips together was something Leon had to respect. He knew he was probably giving Chris a rough time, going from some cold and detached to the same annoying, clingy kid he’d been back in Raccoon City, but Leon—

Leon was _dying._

He knew it, felt it in his bones, a steady decay of his body as the Plaga grew in strength and took more and more from him. Leon was dying and he had little faith in Ada’s cure, not when his symptoms were so much stronger than Ashley’s. And since Leon was fucking dying, he felt like he had a right to just let go of every little stupid hangup he’d orchestrated for himself and take advantage of the situation he was in. It was shitty, it was hell, it was scary and violent, but he also had _Chris fucking Redfield_ back in his life, however temporarily and however platonically. So what Chris hadn’t kissed him? Maybe—

Fuck, maybe he was with Jill.

Leon grimaced, wondering if it would be wrong to suggest Chris cheat just once with a dead man. It wouldn’t matter if Leon was a corpse in the next few hours, right? He wondered if Chris would be the one to put Leon down after he turned.

“What the fuck is this?”Leon tore himself from his thoughts as Chris pushed into a room that was nothing like the rest. While everything before had been grime and disarray, this place looked like a genuine laboratory, reminiscent of the second and third wards of the Raccoon City Umbrella facility. Inside the room were two metal chambers, both of them containing something horrible in its one way. The first held a human figure laying prone on a medical operating table. The only thing human about it were the four limbs, obvious bipedalism, and the face that had two holes for eyes and a mouth. The rest was wrong. Gray skin webbed with white veins pushing at the surface, a mouth that split the face in two with teeth as large as Leon’s fingers, an oddly swollen abdomen that suggested some sort of ruptured inner organs. Leon cringed away from the sight, but honestly didn’t want to see what was in the other chamber either.

Some sort of spidery monster, a long tail with pincers for legs, frozen in the air, hopefully dead, its talons piercing a a man that was just as frozen, his death throes solidified like art. Chris was at the control panel of this chamber, tapping at a screen in front of him. After a few seconds, the door to the chamber open and Leon flinched away. “Are you sure—”

“I think I see a file in there.”

Chris went into the chamber with little else explanation while Leon followed him warily, eyeing the creature that didn’t move at their entrance. Chris went to a table and picked up a few pieces of paper, scanning with a slowly-growing grimace. “It’s written by Luis.”

Leon swallowed hard at the man’s name, knowing his shirts was still stained with Luis’s blood.

“He says the shit we’ve fought are just— byproducts. El Gigante and the Novistadors aren’t on purpose or something like that. That there’s something else we’re gonna face called a Regenerator.” Chris’s grimace was understandable now. A name like that left little to the imagination. “He says that their limbs regenerate and that they can only be killed if we kill the Plaga inside that can be seen only through thermal. Apparently multiple Plaga can be inside one host and we have to kill them all.” Chris set down the paper and looked to Leon with some kind of exhaustion. “You think these people have think tanks for the names or are they just using a random name generator and tack the endings on? “ Chris looked down at the paper again. “Why is this name English? Wesker would come up with better. Wesker has cool names for shit.”

“We really need to get you some help for that concussion,” Leon said with a fondness in his chest. “First you say you think I’m cool and now you’re complimenting Wesker? What’s next? Gonna tell me your barbecue is better than Barry Burton’s?”  
Chris ducked his head and Leon almost thought he’d been a little too harsh until he saw the pinkness crawling down Chris’s neck. “Jesus christ,” Leon said with a shake of his head. “You’re too much, Redfield.”

“There's something else,” Chris said, holding up a flat sheet of metal. “Reads freezer keycard.” Leon stared at the keycard and tried to keep the hopelessness from his face. It obviously didn’t work, because Chris’s grimace returned. “You still not good with the cold, Leon?”

“Shit like that doesn’t go away with therapy,” Leon replied stiffly. “Can we—”

He cut himself off, but didn’t need to say more regardless. “We’ll go in together,” Chris told him. “Don’t worry, I’m a space heater. We’ll be fine.”

Glass shattered outside the chamber and Chris and Leon both turned to the opened chamber door, seeing that thing that had been lifeless in the next area suddenly on its feet and advancing towards them, its gaping mouth twisted in some horrific mockery of a smile while it breathed harshly, shaky little gasps of air that Leon knew he’d remember for the rest of his life. “Regenerators,” Chris said from beside him, both of them not knowing where to shoot since they couldn’t see thermal with the naked eye. “We’d just be wasting the bullets.” They met eyes before nodding and breaking away, splitting the attention of the creature and ducking out of reach, darting behind it and out of the chamber. The thing was just as horrifying when it walked as it was when it was laying in stasis. 

“Let’s find that freezer,” Leon said even as the words had his gut sinking. “Maybe something in there can help us.” 

They searched the area, avoiding the long arms of another Regenerator, and Leon could feel cold emanating from somewhere nearby. The hair on his arms stood on end, anticipation of the freezing cold making his footsteps louder than he’d normally like, his gate heavier with burgeoning anxiety. He hadn’t actually thought of his mother in a longer time than his father, the intimidating woman who had stood by with cold eyes as Leon had been flung to the floor by the iron grip of his father, the woman that had shoved everything in the fridge to the floor so she could fit Leon inside and put the chair to the handle, the meat cooler in the garage that Leon feared more than his parents themselves. Leon was pretty sure he’d died in that cooler once or twice— there were too many empty spots in his memory for him to have miraculously survived the cold. 

A set of large, blue doors suddenly faced Leon down, the cold leeching into him in seconds even with the doors locked shut. The inhumane shuddering breath was just behind them, a Regenerator pursuing them with a vengeance, but Leon couldn’t make himself move forward. 

“Hey.”A gentle touch to the crook of his elbow, Chris solid beside him. “You’re gonna be okay,” Chris promised him even as Leon failed to tear his eyes from those freezer doors. “I’m with you.”

Leon forced himself to breathe and nodded, then took the keycard from Chris and slid it into the mechanism beside, the doors clicking audibly as they unlocked. Leon pushed into the freezing cold and _shook._

_“This is what happens when you show your face!”_

His mother’s voice— Leon hadn’t heard it in years. 

“Leon?”

Fuck that monster of a woman. 

“Nice place,” Leon said past the way his teeth fought to chatter. There were bags and frozen bodies of the Regenerators hanging from the ceiling a gurney with a bloody corpse atop it, frozen solid with a parasite leaping from the chest. “I think I see something in the next compartment, some control system. Let me see if I can warm this place up.” He broke away from Chris and told himself he was fine, a fucking professional, he didn’t need Chris to help him forget what he’d been through. Leon went into the secondary part of the freezer, picked up some waste keycard, and went to a control panel, turning down dials and ignoring how his fingers shook.

“That did something!” Chris called out from the first area. “Hey— come check this out!”

Leon went to Chris, felt the cold already bleeding away and was grateful for it. He went to Chris and saw the infrared scope sealed in some glass case at the back. “Good,” he said firmly. “We’re gonna need that.” He looked to Chris and stalled. The man was staring at him oddly again. Leon felt a sharp pain suddenly in his head and—

“Easy, Leon.” Chris’s hands went to his shoulders, holding him steady. “They’re red again.” Of fucking course they were. Leon pressed the butt of his palm to one of his eyes, pushing in and trying to relieve some of the pain that was slowly sharpening. “I…” Leon made a noise of question when Chris trailed off, so the man continued. “What were you thinking of? The first time they went red?”

Leon didn’t know why that would matter, honestly couldn’t remember anyways. “We were in the castle,” he said, his tongue feeling a little sluggish from the pain. “On that dumb fucking buggy. There were oil paintings and everything was gorgeous even though it was evil.” Leon shook his head. “I— was thinking about you. And the way you were scared to touch me.” Leon winced, knowing how stupid it was to even think about that at all. “I don’t think I ever thought it, not consciously, but it felt like— you thought I wasn’t worth touching anymore.” 

Chris nodded, his hand gripping Leon’s shoulder firmly. “And now? What are you thinking about now?”

Leon shuddered. “My mother.”

“I think the Plaga’s hold on you has a lot to do with your thoughts wandering,” Chris posited carefully. “That you— slip in your control of yourself and the Plaga gains a little something more. When you get lost in memories of the past, maybe… maybe the Plaga takes root in the part that gets left behind in your memories.”

“That’s fucking stupid.”

“Probably,” Chris agreed. “But I can’t think of anything else. If you’re worried about the Plaga taking control of your head and the, the slips are showcased in moments where you’re lost in your head, then that’s the only conclusion I can think of.”

“It’s a stupid conclusion.” Leon hadn’t even been thinking about Chris not wanting him in the buggy, he’d just been thinking about Chris in general. Except that actually supported the theory, didn’t it? And Chris had always been saying it was dangerous for Leon to get lost in his head. “I’m in control,” Leon said, telling himself the cold was why his voice shook. “The Plaga hasn’t made me hurt anyone since Ada.”

“I don’t think you’re going to hurt me, Leon.”

There was a crash behind them and that horrible, jagged breathing. The monsters they’d seen hanging from the ceiling had likely thawed out. “Look at that,” Leon said, slamming up a wall of indifference because maybe Chris was right and Leon was getting lost in his head again. He held the scope up in the air. “We’ll get to test this bad boy out already.”

“Leon—”

“Drop it.”

He didn’t mean to be so harsh, but he knew Chris wouldn’t let it go either if Leon didn’t put his foot down. The man grimaced. “Fair enough. You know how to attach the scope to your rifle?”

Leon made a face. “I can’t believe you’d ask me that,” he said as he unslung the rifle and effortlessly slid the scope into place, pulling the catch and sealing the scope in place. He held up the rifle and made himself grin, eager to take down the monsters that terrified him on an instinctual level. “On me, Redfield— don’t want you getting in my way.”

Chris ducked behind Leon and Leon brought up the gun, peered down the scope, and couldn’t contain the feeling of excitement that welled in his chest. He didn’t often take true joy in what he did, seeing as surviving apocalypses and hellish monsters wasn’t something to covet in a career, but one thing Leon had truly enjoyed over the past six years of his awful life was learning how to use something new. Specifically, learning how to use a new _weapon._ He had quite a bit of experience with thermal thanks to night ops and gratuitous weapons testing and peering down the scope and adjusting to his limited field of view was easy as breathing. He led Chris from that chamber and—

“Holy shit,” He mumbled under his breath, taking in the imaging of the scope with a new sense of horror. Fascinatingly enough, the hosts of the Plaga appeared to be at least ten degrees below the normal temperature of the human body, clocking in around eighty-eight Fahrenheit compared to the normal ninety-six. Meanwhile, the Plaga themselves were red hot, almost pink in how warm they were running, appearing even hotter than the normal pulse points on the human body. Leon had gone this whole time assuming Plaga were cold blooded like lizards or even ectotherms like insects, but they seemed to run hotter than the average mammal. They were also spaced out in cancerous mounds throughout the hosts’s body, just pulsing spots of heat even where there was no rotundness to the exterior body, almost like the Plaga had eaten away at whatever had been there first to make the perfect little spot for it to settle within. 

Leon’s skin was crawling as he thought about it, and the nerves stayed as he pulled the trigger and shot the first Plaga, smirking to himself when the Regenerator’s breathing hitched into a moan of pain. He shot the two other boiling points on the thing and lowered the scope, wanting to see how these things died.

The Regenerator stumbled back. Then its entire upper torso burst like a balloon, puss and blood and decayed guts splattering the wall and ceiling and floor and— Leon.

Leon stood there for a long moment as his brain slowly recognized that some of it had gotten in his mouth. Leon made a face and curled his tongue out of his body, wondering if it would be too much to make himself throw up so he could get the taste away. “Why do they have to blow up?” He asked to complain as he picked at his tongue. “Seems a little dramatic.”

“At least it works,” Chris pointed out. “Still want to be the one to make the shots?”

“I’m fine,” Leon huffed after he’d spat a mound onto the floor that looked a lot like cartilage. “You’re the one with the concussion. Stay behind me.”Chris nodded and dutifully fell into step as Leon navigated their way out of the science lab and to the waste disposal area, two more Regenerators causing them little trouble. Before Leon would have been worried about wasting the rifle ammo, but there were more bullets in this place than he could carry. At least that measure of luck was turning up for them. He brought Chris up a long hallway and pushed into a room that had a glass lookout on the right with a set of controls in the front. Chris went to the window first, peering out. “There are some guys down here,” he told Leon, face pressed to the glass. “They don’t look friendly.”

“Is that a crane?” Leon asked, going to the window beside Chris. He looked to the console beside them. “You think these controls do what I’m thinking?”Chris’s eyes went wide like a child’s and Leon rolled his own before cocking his head and taking a step back. “I’m having all the fun with the rifle— why don’t you get me a prize?”

“I’m fucking amazing at these,” Chris said as he fired up the controls and grinned like a maniac. Leon watched the man expertly maneuver the crane, picking up unaware Ganados and dropping them down the huge garbage chute to the right, the one that seemed to drop off into forever. Chris let out a giggle with every man he dropped and Leon delighted at the sound. “Leon, I got two at once!” Chris exclaimed as the Ganados below began to catch on to what was happening and start to panic. “They’re trying to run away now— door’s shut, fuckers, you’re locked in here with me! Are you trying to duck? You can’t hide from me!”

Leon was seriously questioning the intelligence of the Plaga-infected at this point. At least Chris’s concussion wasn’t interfering with his personality. 

“Dammit,” Chris said after he’d emptied the room. “Guess that’s all of them.”

“I’m sure you’ll get the chance to have some fun again.”

Chris nodded. “I’ll take you to a carnival after this— show off.” The cheeky wink Chris sent him made Leon’s chest ache. The man really did believe Leon was going to survive this. “You’ll go home with more stuffed animals than you know what to do with.”

“My hero,” Leon said dully, turning away so Chris wouldn’t see how his own excitement died. He prayed Chris wouldn’t be there when Leon inevitably succumbed to the Plaga and turned. Leon reflexively brought his hand up to his face, wishing he could catch his reflection and see the redness of his eyes. How could Chris think Leon was going to make it out of here alive when his symptoms were so strong? There wasn’t a cure, not once the Plaga was so far along. It was only a matter of time.

He left the room, knowing Chris followed him thanks to the lumbering footsteps. 

A carnival, huh? Like Chris thought they even had a chance of being normal even if Leon did survive this. How would they be able to reconcile after everything? Leon was adjusting to Chris so quickly because _he was fucking dying,_ letting himself accept the man only because he knew his was the last day alive. But if Leon did survive? If he kept going? What then? Chris wanted him to leave STRATCOM and that just wasn’t possible. What would Chris do when he found out Leon couldn’t leave? Would Chris just… Would he give up? Because Leon felt like they would have to. It would be impossible to navigate their lives together if they were both on separate tracks. Fighting the same war didn’t make them allies, USSTRATCOM and BSAA weren’t going to be overtly friendly with one another, anyone could see that plain as day. The United Nations weren’t fans of the US Government and vice versa. Even though the United States was formally a part of the organization, there was enough red tape to keep the BSAA and USSTRATCOM from meshing. And Leon’s shit was so fucking covert that even he didn’t know if he existed half the time— how could he expect Chris to live his life in love with a ghost?

It didn’t matter. Leon was dying today and that was all there was to it. He set his stance and stepped aside, letting Chris mow down the Ganados in their way with the shotgun. Leon needed to stop thinking about the future because he didn’t have one in the first place. He should just be happy with what he had now because it was all he was going to get. Leon tried to ignore the way the thought made him feel clammy and his head start to pound.

There was a banging in the distance, an annoying staccato of blunt force on metal. Probably Ashley.

“Help!”

Definitely Ashley.

“There she is,” Chris said. “She sounds close.”

“You can bet a lot of fuckers are gonna get in our way,” Leon griped. “You take point with the spray and pray, I’ll hang back and cover you for reload.”

Chris moved up and Leon fell behind, feeling worlds more confident with Chris in front of him, strong and reassuring and solid as a wall. 

They found the room that held the area Ashley was trapped him, but couldn’t find the fucking key inside. Chris and Leon both tried shouting to the poor girl as she continued to scream for help, but wherever she was didn’t allow her to hear them. Chris just huffed a curse and they kept moving, knowing they’d find a way to her soon enough. Bursting out into the open air, Leon saw a guard tower with satellites atop it, running for the industrial lift that would take them up. “If we can get word to Hannigan or Valentine, maybe they can send help,” he told Chris excitedly, letting himself feel some sort of hope. Even through this whole fiasco, there had been no way to get an update on the evac location. Leon crossed his fingers, knowing they’d need to hear from _somebody_ friendly to make it out of here. Leon had a feeling trekking through the wilderness of Spain and placing their bets on stumbling upon a way off the island was a suicide wish.

The radio tower had lights on. Leon was the first inside, going for the controls and flicking through the airwaves, trying to find the specific channel he knew would get them the Naval Station Rota. The hum of a connection being made was music to Leon’s ears. He mic to his mouth and kept his voice low, saying, “This is Leon— request backup. I repeated, request backup!” 

The only answer he got was static.

“Damn!”

Leon pushed away from the console, frustrated. “See if you can reach Valentine.”

Chris nodded, moving to where Leon had been and switching the dials, saying, “Chris Redfield of the BSAA, reaching out to any friendly party. Can anyone read me?” They both knew the chances were slim. If the Naval Base couldn’t reach them, then—

_“Chris? Chris, it’s Jill!”_

Leon flew to the console, eyes wide in shock at the sound of the woman’s voice. He’d barely known Jill Valentine for more than a minute— and what an aggressive minute that had been— but he knew her voice well enough from audio reports he’d snagged when checking on Chris’s group of friends. Even through the distortion, it was Jill fucking Valentine, coming in clear.

“Oh thank god, Jill,” Chris breathed, his voice shaky with relief. “It’s been fucking insane, this whole thing has gone sideways, we need—”

_“Chris, did you make contact with Ashley Graham?”_

“We did, we did,” Chris said, glancing to Leon. “We don’t have her on hand right now, but we’re working on it. Opposing forces have been stubborn, to say the least.”

_“Who’s we?”_

“Me and—”

Chris cut himself off abruptly. Leon looked to him, waiting for Chris to continue, why—

Oh.

Jill was probably one of the people who had lied to Chris about Leon these past six years. They didn’t know for certain, but it was a hunch, and a damn good one. Leon was sure they’d lied just to be petty or protective. Did Chris think it could be something more? Something sinister? But that couldn’t be it, why would letting Leon be picked up by the government be a preferable outcome for any of the operations they’d planned against Umbrella? And Jill Valentine had been in love with Chris and likely still was, but she wasn’t the type of person to ruin someone’s life just to sabotage a relationship. Was she?

“Me and an ally,” Chris said after that damning stall. “We’re working on getting Ashley Graham back. That’s all I can say right now. Reach out to STRATCOM’s Hannigan, we need—”

There was a sudden screech of audio feedback and both Chris and Leon flinched away from he piercing sound. Chris immediately went back to the console, shouting Jill’s name past the feedback, but as the noise died, so did the radio itself. There was nothing but empty static again. 

“Dammit!” Chris shouted, twice as angry as Leon had been. “Fuck!”

“Hopefully she got a gist of the dire straits,” Leon said. “Does she know the general location?”

“She might be able to figure out where the signal came from, maybe even cross-reference some serial numbers with the airwaves, but last I checked, this part of the island isn’t even on the map.”That wasn’t good news. “She’s smart,” Leon said, riding Chris’s faith more than anything else. “She’ll figure it out and save our asses.”

“Yeah,” Chris agreed with a breathless laugh. “Jill’s good at that— along with everything else.”

Leon knew they didn’t have a lot of time, but— “Are you sure you’re not with her?” At Chris’s look of confusion, Leon wanted to explain why he thought Chris could have been lying before. “I won’t be hurt to know you’ve moved on. I mean it. Six years is a long time, Chris.”

“It was,” Chris agreed firmly. “And I wasn’t with anyone those whole six years. And I’m not with anyone now. Not Jill. Not Rebecca. Not even John. Not anyone. Alright?” The man stared Leon down, daring him to say otherwise, staring into Leon’s red eyes like he wasn’t afraid of the infection in Leon’s veins. “I know it’s not something to be proud of, but I never moved on. And after tonight? Regardless of what happens. I don’t think I ever will.”

Leon almost stopped breathing. He rocked forward on his toes, a forward swing of his body wanting to fall into Chris and kiss the man. A bad idea, the mother of bad ideas. Leon stopped himself and tore their gazes apart. _Dying, Leon was dying._ Don’t make Chris fall in love with a dead man all over again. He swept his gaze over the radio tower room instead of looking at Chris and saw a keycard. It read “storage room” and it was the only lead they had. “Golden ticket,” he said, throat tight. 

Chris was watching Leon like his heart was breaking. “It’s okay if you moved on, Leon,” Chris told him gently. “I won’t judge you.”

Leon definitely stopped breathing. And— he knew what a panic attack felt like. Didn’t have them often, but it only took once or twice to learn the signs. The funny thing about Leon’s panic attacks were that they felt a lot like the time he’d died. His hands reflexively went to his throat and he cursed himself, manually aborting the gesture before he could complete it. What could he say? He couldn’t lie, but he couldn’t explain how he’d managed to make the most colossal mistake of his life in trying to move on. Leon wanted to say he’d moved on because he’d had every right to, he’d been the one left behind, and yet admitting as much would give Chris so many questions that Leon couldn’t answer. God, what was he supposed to say?

“Let’s go get Ashley,” Chris said, blessedly taking the responsibility from Leon and making the decision for him. And for once, the decision Chris made for him was the right one. 

“We can head for the waste disposal area, we’ll see if we can drop down there safely and find a way out,” Leon thought aloud, wanting to get back to business and pretend that hadn’t just happened. Pretend that Leon hadn’t just shoved down a big box of ugly into the back corners of his psyche.

Unfortunately, the way Chris was looking at Leon told him enough— Chris had drawn a few conclusions of his own and they _were not_ good. Chris had been the one to gleam Leon’s past abuse after just one night. He could read Leon’s trauma like a photo book. Then, softly, “Your eyes are blue again, Leon.”

Chris’s theory was proving to have a lot more merit than Leon wanted to consider. “How weird is that,” Leon said in monotone. Chris just nodded his agreement. Chris looked into Leon. Leon didn’t know what he would find. 

They left the radio tower after that, Leon’s heart hammering in his chest and his panic attack at the edge of his mind, a bad feeling morphing into something much more severe. Chris took point again and Leon was happy to follow, wishing—

God, what did he want? Leon wasn’t sure anymore. He just knew he wished Chris had kissed him on the boat. Just once more, before he died, Leon wanted to taste the other man and reconcile every dream that had haunted him for the past six years. Just once more. Leon felt like he deserved that. 

They went back through the facility, easily finding the door Ashley was locked behind. The keycard blinked green and— Chris stepped back, motioning for Leon to go through the door first. Leon didn’t even have it in himself to question it. He threw open the storage room door and stormed inside, Rot up, finding nothing but Ashley crouched in the corner, knees to her chest, face hidden in her arms.

Ashley reminded him so much of Sherry that Leon wanted to cry because even as he’d been forcing himself to swallow the fact that he wasn’t going to live through the night, he only just now realized he was never going to see his daughter again. 

Ashley lifted her head and Leon swallowed past the lump in his throat as the girl’s face split with a huge smile and she darted forward, crying out his name in pure joy. “You okay?” Leon asked her, his own voice grating oddly at his ears. Ashley wordlessly bobbed her head, suddenly unable to meet his eyes. 

“C’mon,” Chris beckoned from behind him. “Let’s get you both out of here. If you may recall, I’m on the rescue op for the rescue op.” When Ashley looked to him, Chris gave another of those cheeky winks that had Ashley’s own smile brightening considerably. “I’m the knight in shining armor, squared.”

“You’re something, alright,” Ashley shot back. “You’re doing a pretty poor job considering I’ve been recaptured twice and only once was it my own fault!”

“She has a point,” Chris said, going with the good natured teasing. “Leon, we gotta step up our A-game.”

Leon couldn’t make himself join in. _He was never going to see Sherry again._ “Let’s get moving,” he ordered, not caring that he was ruining the fun. All he could think about was Sherry back in D.C., rambling wildly about her prom dress and how Leon needed to be there for pictures before the big night. He was supposed to have gone to her immediately after this op. He was supposed to tie the corsage to her wrist. He was supposed to teach her how to dance again. “I’d like to be out of here by sunup.”

“Roger,” Chris replied sarcastically as Sherry— no, Ashley gave a mock salute. Leon wanted to shout at them, wanted to be angry, wanting to get his hands around Chris’s neck and throttle—

That wasn’t his own thought. Leon staggered back. “What color are my eyes?” he demanded. 

Chris frowned while just Ashley looked scared. “Blue,” They both said.

Thank god. “Chris, you lead,” he said. “Ashley, in between. We’re moving.” He turned to leave just in time to see a folded paper airplane fly out of the fog and through the bars of the room, landing smoothly on the ground in front of his feet. “What now?” he asked, weary. The lipstick kiss on the wing of the airplane didn’t phase him. Ada was still keeping an eye on them. Leon opened it up.

_”Perhaps you have it figured out already, but you might be able to get out of here by using the waste disposal vent.”_

“One step ahead of you,” Leon murmured. “Ada is confirming what I thought— our way out.”

“Let’s do it, then.” Chris led them out, sights up, on high alert now that they had Ashley back and she was unarmed. Her earlier words had been in good fun, but they still had bite. They’d already lost her twice and they weren’t even close to getting out of this place. Leon needed to get his shit together if he was going to complete his final assignment. 

That was what this was, right? His final assignment. Better make it a fucking good one, Kennedy.

They left quickly, Chris obviously in a hurry to get out since their luck with keeping Sherry wasn’t as good as their look at finding her. A few Ganados tried to get in the way, but Chris kept them all five feet away with the spray of the shotgun, vicious and quick, Sherry ducking a little but cheering with each fall of their enemy and patting Chris’s shoulder like an exuberant child. They made it back to the garbage chute and Leon peered over the ledge, unable to see much in the darkness. He looked back at Sherry— Ashley? Ashley. He looked back at Ashley and saw her covering her nose. “Looks like this is it,” he told Chris and the girl.

“Ugh, it stinks!” Ashley cried out, looking to Chris like she was waiting for him to agree with her. 

Chris made a face and shrugged. 

“Sure does,” Leon agreed for Chris, peering over the ledge again. Chris and Sher— Ashley came to stand beside him, looking down into the darkness. Leon knew it wasn’t preferable but they didn’t have a lot of options. So he swayed back on his heels and directed a disarming smirk at Sherry, then Chris.

“No way, Leon!” Sherry cried out.

Leon grinned, took Chris by the hand and then grabbed Sherry’s hand as well. _“Way,”_ he shot back as he dropped forward and leaped into the shaft, Sherry screaming shrilly in his ear and Chris letting out a vibrant laugh of adrenaline as they dropped. They all hit the trash beneath together, Leon springing to his feet immediately, brushing off his back and watching Chris get up with that glee still written on his face. They met eyes, playfulness passing between them, the little joys they came across on an op meaning a lot to both of them. So rarely did they get to have fun.

“Are you out of your mind?!” Ashley demanded.

Leon’s good mood dampened quickly. “I knew you’d be fine if you landed on your butt.”

“You—!”

“It’s all in good fun,” Chris said, reaching down at the same time as Leon to offer the girl a hand, them both pulling her to her feet in unison. 

Ashley’s eyes strayed to the corpses she’d landed beside, one of the Regenerators with the stellar porcupine ability. “What is this?”

“C’mon, let’s go,” Leon prompted. He didn’t have time for her questions.

The sewers were full of Ganados _and_ Regenerators, Ashley’s initial reaction to the horrifying beasts being largely the same as Leon’s. The breathing alone had his stomach rolling over and he had the urge to peel the skin from his bones in an effort to be clean of the places the rancid breath could have gusted across his body. An irrational desire, but he was started to itch, the pain in his head growing a little more with each shot he took at the Regenerators, stepping in front of Chris and Ashley with the rifle and ignoring the piercing headache. It was almost like— being around such Plaga-infested things was worsening his own infection. He wondered if the Plaga could communicate amongst themselves. He wondered if his aggressive strain of the virus would make him a Regenerator and not a Ganados. 

There was a shutter separating them from the rest of the garbage facility that was just an endless maze of halls and walkways, Leon genuinely tired of Raccoon City and its twisting underground. The shutter came up only slight, too small for him and Chris to fit through. “Leave it to me, Leon!” Sherry declared as she crawled beneath, her footsteps fading from hearing distance as she sought out the second handle. 

“Gotta say, gonna file a complaint to city hall after this,” Leon griped.

“What?”

Leon missed the alarm in Chris’s voice. “All of these stupid dead ends— someone could get lost down here. Imagine if the orphans got down and never made it out. Chief Irons would shit himself from the negative press.”

Chris didn’t say anything. Leon took his silence as agreement. 

“I got it!”  
The shutter lifted and Leon grinned wide at Sherry—Ashley, giving her a pat on the shoulder, telling her, “Good job.” He strode ahead again, rifle up, ready for more of that awful stuttered breath, when Chris stopped him with a grunt. Leon looked back and saw Chris cutting his head to a door to their right, a blue glow emanating from beneath.

Leon pushed the door open before he could think clearly, seeing that cold flame as safety. The sight of—

... Leon suddenly couldn’t remember this man’s name.

“Fish!” Ashley cried out, answering Leon’s question without being asked. Leon stumbled a little, floored that he’d forgotten the name he’d given the man, and tried to cover it up with a wave of his hand to the arms dealer. Fish watched him sharply from the corner of the small room he was tucked away in, a table to his left, lockers to his right. “How did you get down here?”

“That’s for me ta know, and you ta never find out,” Fish replied cryptically, eyes not straying from Leon. “How’s the head, Mr. Redfield?”  
“Better,” Chris replied. “Tylenol did wonders. I’m still having filter issues, but it’s not so bad.” Chris is looking between Leon and Fish, knowing something is up. Damn Chris for his moments of perception, however few and far between. “Everything okay?”

“Mr. Kennedy seems a little confused.”

“I’m fine,” Leon bit out. But when Chris looked to Leon, Leon realized Chris seemed to agree with Fish. _”I’m fine,”_ he repeated. “Everything is fine.”

“There’s been very little close study on the behaviors of the recently infected,” Fish said diplomatically. “It takes infection three days to complete itself. And yet you’re nearing the final stages in about twelve hours.” Fish’s eyes narrowed on Leon. “Are you sure you’re ‘fine’, Mr. Kennedy?”

“I’m. Fine,” Leon bit out.

Fish held his hands in the air in surrender. “Fair enough— can’t doubt the primary source, yeah?”

“Leon, if you’re sick—”

“He’s fine.” Chris cut off Ashley unapologetically, looking just as unhappy as she was with Leon’s stilted answer. “Leon knows what he’s doing. Knows better than to put us at risk. All we can do is believe him.”

“You got anything good?” Leon asked, ignoring Chris’s words. 

“Nothing you haven’t seen,” Fish replied. “I’m here to give a word of warning.”  
“Another?” Chris shook his head. “We’re getting a lot of these freebies, Fish.”

“Ever thought that maybe I’m just rooting for ya?”

“Where’s the profit in that?”Fish didn’t reply and Leon felt like the man was grinning beneath the bandana. “That ghost we discussed early— that ghost is a lot closer than we thought. Ya made that call to your friend successfully, but who knows when help will arrive. And Saddler’s got a trick or two up his sleeve none of you are gonna like.”

“Who’s the ghost, Fish?” Leon pressed.

“I don’t know their name,” Fish replied. “All I know is that I don’t like the look of ‘em. The lot of you are fine, but most people who are All-American-Made make me a little nervous.” Fish’s eyes went to Leon’s chest, to—

The knife. 

Leon felt like his knees were going to give out. 

“Just want you three to be careful,” Fish said, his voice distant like he was underwater. “It’d be a shame to come this far only to meet a bitter end.”

That panic attack was back. Leon made himself breathe slowly and carefully. His neck _ached_ , the esophagus tight like a hand was strangling him again. He refused to let everyone else see the way his sanity was starting to chip away. Sherry— _Ashley,_ her name was Ashley, and this was Spain, and Chris was only with him because BSAA had gotten called in to pick up Leon’s slack. Krauser had died in a helicopter incident. Krauser was gone.

“You should get moving, friends.”

Leon nodded jerkily, knowing Fish’s word was always sound. He couldn’t get out his thanks as he left the room in a dazed rush, not even bothering to see if the others followed because he knew Chris would without a thought even if Ashley hesitated. 

It wasn’t Krauser. Anyone could use a fucking knife these days, it wasn’t Krauser because Fish had never seen Leon’s matching blade so he’d have no way of knowing he and Krauser shared the pair. God, why had Leon even kept this thing? After South America, after Hildalgo, Krauser had gotten Leon the second of the set and said they were partners, _partners,_ the word meaning so much more than just fellow soldiers. And Leon had kept the damn thing, a reminder that would never leave him, never let him move on. Why? Had he thought that if Krauser had survived that helicopter, maybe they would have been able to move past what Krauser had done? _The man had killed Leon,_ the only person that wasn’t family to be able to boast the fact. Why had Leon kept the fucking knife?

They went through the desolate area quickly, finding a service lift that brought them back up top, into the open air again. They walked cautiously along a road that seemed to be for trucks and machinery, Leon warily watching the sky and Chris watched him. That was fair. Leon wasn’t acting stable after all of this. Sherry was between them, her light footsteps and the swish of her uniform—

Ashley.

Leon felt sick with how quickly his mind had dropped into the abyss of insanity. 

They pushed into a building, and Leon saw Saddler standing on lifted ground in front of them and just wished everything would stop. 

“I can feel them,” Saddler boomed as Leon took a step in front of Ashley and Chris raised the MP5. “Growing ever so strongly inside you.” The man almost smiled down at them as he turned to face them and Leon—

Wanted to fucking kill this man. 

“Saddler!” he shouted, breaking into a sprint, knowing it was a futile fight but needing to feel something. Leon had every intention of shoving his knife down the ugly fuck’s eye socket when the man suddenly raised a hand and Leon— couldn’t move. He was stopped dead in his tracks, fear lacing through his chest. Then the pain started.

Agony, absolute fucking torture, a tear of his nerve endings that felt like he was burning alive from the inside out. Leon choked on his own scream of pain and crumbled to the floor, writhing, his body succumbing to the disease in his spine, veins spasming and curling into ashes in his limbs, his frayed thoughts shattering to pieces. 

_“Perhaps you can resist, but you cannot disobey.”_

“What have you done to him, you bastard?!” Chris screamed, barely audible past the blood rushing in Leon’s ears and this shriek, like the Plaga inside of him had a mouth and was singing. _“Let him go!”_

Leon was barely able to keep his awareness as Saddler laughed at Chris’s demands. He felt a warmth beside him, managed to turn his head and see Chris was at his side, a hand touching Leon’s spine and—

The pain worsened and Leon collapsed, unable to keep himself up as he sobbed from the pain. 

“Now,” Saddler hummed as Chris tried to pull Leon up and couldn’t stop the thrash of Leon’s limbs as his instincts fought back against monsters that didn’t exist. “Come to me, Ashley.”

“Ashley!” Chris shouted, making Leon force his gaze up and see the girl walking towards Saddler like a zombie. A hand rifled through Leon’s pack and Chris threw something at the girl’s retreating figure, a blinking light. Even through the pain of Leon’s chest cavity crumbling away, relief flooded through him. They wouldn’t lose her again.

As footsteps faded from the room, the pain also faded from Leon like it had never existed, and yet everything in him was left aching. He slumped into Chris, shaking, the Plaga inside of him twisting back into stasis, an entity he could almost feel that was trying to take over his mind. There was the rise and fall of Chris’s breath against his chest and Leon curled into him, clinging to the front of his vest, needing a moment to just bring himself back.

“Leon,” Chris gasped into his ear, sounding so young and scared. “Are you okay?”

“Don’t worry about me,” Leon got out with effort. “We need to find Sherry.”

There was more quiet, welcome and yet unwanted at the same time. The roaring in his head died away and his limbs began to obey him again, one by one. Leon flexed his hands experimentally as he had done after his mother drowned him and he needed to get used to his body again. Leon was grateful that Chris was letting Leon use him for support, but god, the silence was starting to scare him.

“Can you stand?” Chris asked after a moment, something wrong in his voice, but Leon was too tired to ask after it. “We need to get moving.”

Leon nodded and staggered to his feet, using Chris’s shoulder for support. “Thank you,” he breathed. “And the tracker— good job.”

“We’ll get her back,” Chris promised. “Three for three, right? It’s hardly fair that Saddler mind controlled her away this time.” Chris smiled shakily and Leon appreciated the effort. “We’ll get her back. It’s what we’re good at.”Leon nodded. “You lead. Please.”

“Of course.” 

Chris broke away, heading in the direction Leon was sure Saddler and Ashley had gone. They navigated a new maze of machinery and high fences, getting to an elevator that took them up into a huge room that was either for sewage or power, a level of grating above machinery below their feet with a secondary level of walkways above.

The moonlight streamed in from above and Leon was struck with the thought that this looked like an arena. “Like Birkin,” Leon said aloud, wanting Chris on the same page. Chris only gave a grunt and went into the area first, sweeping the area with his MP5, so tense his grip was white. Leon tried to keep his head in focus, but he kept hearing the wheezing breaths of a monster he’d killed years ago. Everything about this place was so much like the underground of Raccoon City. His skin was crawling and his head was pounding. He could hear Sherry laughing brightly as she stood on his toes as he danced with her around the motel room.

There was a sound behind him, a gentle brush of air from movement. Leon stopped in his tracks and reached for his knife, pulling it from the sheath and trying to see if he could spy someone in his peripherals. Ahead, Chris was peering over the edge of one of the railings, checking out the status of beneath them. Leon held his breath and then whipped around, knife up, finding nothing. 

There was the sound of movement again.

Leon turned around just in time to see a man swing down from the pipes above to plant his feet squarely in Chris’s back and send the man plummeting off the edge. Leon made to run after Chris, his fear at seeing the man fall making him stupid. Metal flashed and Leon flung himself back into a handspring to avoid the knife that nearly slit open his throat. As he vaulted back and landed solidly, Leon felt blood trickle down his cheek. He wiped the stinging cut with the back of his hand and looked up to see the face of his enemy. 

“Been a long time, comrade.”

Death washed over Leon’s bones. 

“Krauser,” He said, voice firm even as the despair settled like acid. Below, he heard Chris shouting, but he could’t pay attention to that.

_Leon backed away, getting space. He needed to keep the space so the swings wouldn’t hit him. He needed to keep light on his feet, needed to be faster than his opponent. He needed to ignore their words. He needed to survive._

It was just another giant.

Krauser was nothing more than another monster.

“I died in the crash two years ago— is that what they told you?” Krauser asked he began to pace, going in a tight circle that Leon mimicked in the opposite direction to _keep Krauser away from him._ His throat _hurt_ and he felt like giving up, letting Krauser finish the job for good this time, but Chris was beneath him and Ashely needed to go home. Ashley—

“You’re the one who kidnapped Ashley,” Leon realized aloud. 

“You catch on quick,” Krauser said as he spun his matching blade in his hand, the twirl of the knife caching Leon’s eye because he couldn’t look at Krauser’s face. “As expected. After all, you and I both know where we come from.”

That sunlit motel room where Krauser had wrapped his hands around Leon’s neck and killed—

Leon barely sprung away in time to avoid Krauser’s slash of the knife. He shook his head, cursing himself, knowing he couldn’t get lost in his thoughts if he wanted to survive. Leon lunged forward, swiping back, scowling when Krauser tilted his head back to avoid the knife in his jugular. They stepped back, Leon shifting his stance, holding the knife protectively in front of his chest. “What do you want?!” he demanded, knowing this was more than just Ashley. Those hands around his neck—

Krauser stepped forward and swiped across Leon’s chest, then went for Leon’s chin, Leon moving away and bending his spine back in a graceful arch to avoid the blade. “Always were a flexible little fucker,” Krauser growled, Leon’s blood running cold at the verbalized callback to their spare moments together. “And I want that sample Saddler developed— that’s all.” Krauser swung his arm wide, and Leon blocked him with his own blade. 

“Leave Ashley out of this!” he ordered, voice cracking a little. 

Krauser smirked. “I needed her to buy Saddler’s trust.” Krauser stood tall, his smirk stretching the new scar across his mouth, those soft lips that had kissed Leon only once and brought him back to life now split. “Like you, I’m American.”

Krauser suddenly kicked a barrel into Leon’s face and Leon knocked it aside to block Krauser’s strike, both of them moving back with momentum. The floor was no longer beneath him. Leon flipped through the air and he and Krauser landed on a secondary grating below, both on their feet. Leon looked down and saw that he wasn’t on the same level as Chris. Fuck, Chris wasn’t even below them anymore. A momentary panic for the other man shot through Leon.

Behind him, Krauser chuckled. Leon stood. “You got Ashley involved just for that?!” He ran for Krauser, grunting as he lashed out, Krauser blocking him with a deadpanned expression. They sliced at one another, a perfect dance of honed skill, parrying and standing so close with the intent to kill, Krauser’s face so near to Leon’s that he could feel the man’s breath. In a fit of momentary lucidity, past the terror and the memories and the pain, Leon bested Krauser by switching his blade to the opposite hand and spinning, arching the knife through the air and feeling nothing but pleasure as he sliced open the man’s shirt and made him bleed. 

Krauser looked down at his wound and scowled.

Leon ignored the way his hands were shaking. 

Krauser’s scowl morphed to a grin. “Guess you really haven’t forgotten me. The way I had you beneath me, submitting to me like a ten dollar _whore._ ” Leon swallowed down bile as Krauser spun his blade playfully again. “Maybe you can pretend, but we both know the truth— when I fucked you, I made you mine. And I left a part of me in every dark corner you can’t erase. You’ll never forget me, Leon Kennedy.”

Krauser darted forward and stabbed up. Leon took his arm and twisted it away. They grappled and came face to face, both knives above them, looking into one another’s eyes and Leon was back in that hotel room, staring up into the face of the man he thought he trusted as he died, black encroaching his vision, lungs empty, heart slow—

Krauser suddenly spun on his heel and twisted behind Leon, slamming his boot into the base of Leon’s spine and sending him tumbling across the floor, knife clattering out of his grip. Leon gasped and rolled onto his back, kicking himself away in a desperate attempt to flee before he could swallow the cowardly instinct. He looked up at Krauser from between his spread legs and felt like he’d been thrown back in time.

“Pretty little thing,” Krauser sneered as he approached. “Pretty little _slut._ Having to see your disgusting face again— all for Umbrella’s sake.”

That shot through the trauma. “Umbrella?” Leon repeated.

Krauser tilted his head. “Almost let it slip. Enough talk.” He barred his teeth and lifted the knife into the air. “Die, comrade!” Krauser leaped into the air and brought the knife down towards Leon’s chest, Leon grabbing the man’s wrist and barely keeping him from driving the blade into his body. He strained with the effort of fighting Krauser’s strength, knowing he wouldn’t last like this forever. As Leon fought for his life, he met Krauser’s eyes again and wondered if the man regretted bringing him back in to life in that hotel room. Then something flashed in Krauser’s face and suddenly the knife was gone and—

Those hands were around Leon’s neck again.

Leon lurched his hips upward, trying to buck Krauser off where he was pinning Leon with his entire body. The hands tightened and Leon wasn’t in Spain anymore, he was laying across musky hotel sheets with a cock thrusting inside of him as he died, the pain and fear and anxiety leaking away as he fell off into the quiet nothing of death, a silhouette and a warm voice in his ear whispering, _“on me,” _as Leon—__

__Air was slammed back into his lungs and he opened his eyes in time to see the boot that had crashed into Krauser’s jaw swing out of his vision, Chris screaming, _“Get your hands off him, you piece of shit!”_ Leon rolled onto his side, grasping his abused throat, struggling to piece his psyche back together, crawling away because he only knew how to run to survive when his mind was this ruined. Then there were hands touching him, pulling him, lifting Leon onto his knees, and he lashed out, a wounded noise strangled in his throat. _ _

__“Leon, it’s okay, it’s me.”_ _

__Oh thank god.Leon turned onto his knees and saw Chris and felt like he could cry. Above Chris, up a level, Ada stood tall with a grim expression. And to his left, Krauser laughed._ _

__“I’ll be damned,” The monster said as he rocked back onto his feet. Leon couldn’t keep from huddling into Chris’s chest, seeking out protection even as he called himself a coward, his breath wheezing from his lungs. “The infamous Chris Redfield. Never thought I’d get the chance to meet you, but am I damn glad I have.” Krauser grinned, white teeth sharp like fangs. “You know, if it weren’t for you? I’d still be chained to this worthless piece of shit, crippled and useless. Thanks to you, I was able to reach my full potential.” Krauser spread his arms, displaying himself. “And what a hell of a potential.”_ _

__“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Chris spat as he put an arm around Leon’s shoulders and held him close, Leon accepting the touch as white spots danced in his vision, symptoms of barely evaded hypoxia. “But you’re not getting your hands on Leon ever again!”_ _

__“Leon Kennedy—”_ _

__“Leon _S._ Kennedy.”_ _

__Krauser threw his head back and laughed, a cruel sound that made Leon feel like a small child cowering beneath his bed. “Maybe I gave you too much credit! Maybe you’re just as stupid as Leon said you were.” Krauser shook his head. “Learn from me, then, as I learned for you. A fuck as good as Leon is a once in a lifetime thing, but it ain’t worth shit if that lifetime is wasted. One and done that slut. He’s used goods anyways. Unless you like my sloppy seconds.”_ _

__Krauser leered and Leon wilted beneath the gaze as he felt Chris tense. Chris knew now, he fucking knew, and he’d never want to touch Leon again. Chris would never be able to stomach him. But— if that were the case, why was his arm still around Leon? Why was Chris pulling Leon even closer, obscuring Leon’s view of Krauser like he didn’t want Leon to even have to see the man?_ _

__“We have the upper hand, Krauser,” Ada said from above as a red dot appeared on Krauser’s chest._ _

__Krauser tore his gaze from Leon and Chris to the woman. “The bitch in the red dress.” He smirked and laughed again. “I’ll be seeing you again soon, Kennedy.” Then the man leaped back in a display of inhuman strength, reaching the top of the ceiling. Leon looked up from over Chris’s shoulder, feeling weak and safe even as Krauser said, “You may be able to prolong your life, but it’s not like you can escape your inevitable death!”_ _

__Heels hit the grating, Ada approaching. “You knew each other, Leon?”_ _

__Leon shuddered and turned his face into Chris’s chest, stealing more selfish comfort as he replied, “More or less.” There was a clatter and then Leon looked up to see Ada gently pushing the knife he’d lost into his hand._ _

__“Why are you here, Ada?” Chris asked, his protective instincts almost visible and Leon, for once, grateful to be on the receiving end. “Maybe it’s time you tell us exactly what’s going on.”_ _

__“Maybe some other time,” Ada replied airily as she strode past them, though she paused long enough to let a delicate hand rest on the back of Leon’s neck for a split second before she was gone, vaulting herself over the ledge to the lower level again._ _

__“Fuck,” Chris bit out, squeezing Leon tighter. “Who— who was that? Leon, what the fuck was that?” Leon couldn’t look the man in the eye. “The things he said about you. Who was that man? How the fuck did he know you and how the fuck is he here? Is he working with Ada? With Wesker?”_ _

__Chris had so many questions and Leon had only half of the answers, all of which were terrible. His burrowed deeper into the warmth of the other man, manually filing away every memory of Krauser’s hands on his body and replacing them with that one night he’d shared with Chris. He’d never dared to attempt it before, but it seemed like the only way he could save the final shreds of himself to finish out the night and his life. As he erased Krauser inch by inch from his mind’s eye, the warmth of Chris surrounding him became the most real thing in his reality, the rumble of Chris’s chest and the low baritone of his voice._ _

__“Just let me rest a moment,” Leon begged, interrupting Chris’s feverish questions, regretted the sensation of the man falling silent. “I’ll be okay soon. Just let me rest.”_ _

__Chris didn’t say a word, but he did squeezed Leon tighter, sitting back on the grating to pull Leon into his lap and encompass him completely with those strong arms, Chris burying his face in Leon’s hair._ _

__Leon sunk into the warmth and promised Sherry that he only needed another minute of rest._ _


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ALRIGHT SO I GOT RID OF THE DUBCON TAG
> 
> long store short i fucked up big time and completely miscalculated where that scene was gonna take place and literally skipped over it last chapter so ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ woe is me i fucked up i'm a disaster my bad but this mean i get to go harder with a certain scene in re5 SO I GUESS IT'S FINE I GUESS
> 
> i personally love this chapter. so much. especially the ending. hope y'all do too.

It had been years since Chris had held Leon so intimately in his arms, and yet the circumstances left Chris feeling nothing but nauseous. 

_”One and done that slut. He’s used goods anyways. Unless you like my sloppy seconds.”_

God, who— how could anyone look at Leon S. Kennedy, how could anyone who was lucky enough to bring this gorgeous, fragile man into their bed, be so fucking cruel? How could that sick fuck think so little of Leon? How could that actual fucking monster have spent a night or _more_ with Leon S. Kennedy and come away so hateful and vile? Chris couldn’t relate any of the affectionate moments he shared with Leon to whatever it took to turn a man into who that had been. Krauser, Ada had said? Ada was working with that man, with Krauser, how could she work with someone who had—

God, Chris didn’t even know what Krauser had done to Leon. Didn’t want to think about it. When he’d been kicked down below, he’d been more focused on finding a way back up to really pay attention to the fight itself. Ada had swung down and brought him up, uncharacteristically frazzled, her almond eyes pinched with worry, and when Chris had stood above the battle and looked down to see Leon going limp with those hands around his neck, Chris had seen red. Jumped down, drove his boot into the fucker’s face, gotten himself around Leon so no blow would land on the younger man ever again at Chris’s own expense. It had all happened so fast that Chris had had so little time to think.

Now, though, now that the dust had settled, Chris could see, plain as day, how unnaturally still Leon had gone the second those fingers had enveloped his throat. He hadn’t even tried to fight back, had only bucked uselessly beneath the grip, but it was like his instinct had been to give in. Chris knew that instinct hadn’t come from Leon’s formative years whilst surviving the abuse of his parents. If anything, Leon’s instincts from that age would have _insisted_ he fight back. But going limp? Surrendering? That was something new and terrifying. 

Used goods.

That was what Krauser had said, made it pretty clear him and Leon had been— they’d been _something_ , Chris could gleam as much. Leon had been so hesitant on confirming or denying if he’d “moved on,” as they’d both been putting it. So, what? Leon had tried to move on once and fallen into an abusive relationship? Wouldn’t that be Leon’s luck. 

Chris felt the man in his arms shudder tellingly and he squeezed Leon a little tighter, wishing he could take it all away. The memories, the pain, the Plaga, Krauser. Chris wished he could take it all away and shoulder the load for Leon so the man could stand tall and proud and beautiful like he was meant to be. Not huddled on the ground, trembling with the weight of the trauma and the bruises blooming across his throat alongside the ones that had already been there. And how Leon had been switching names and places— Would he reach a point where he forgot everything? Was the Plaga taking Leon away, piece by piece? Or was this a rampant coping mechanism, aggravated compartmentalization forcing things away to the point where part of Leon was lost for good. 

Chris hoped it was the former. The Plaga had a cure. Psychological repression had nothing but tentative therapy and no guarantee that the person would come back whole ever again.

Leon shifted in his arms, pulling away, moving to stand. Chris didn’t want to let him go, addicted to the sensation of Leon in his arms, depending on and wanting him. Still, he knew that they’d delayed too long. It had been no more than a few minutes, three at most, but time was precious and they still didn’t know where Ashley was. Chris reluctantly let Leon go, the smaller man sitting back on the ground and bracing himself with his hands against the concrete behind his hips. Leon didn’t lift his head or let Chris see his eyes. Chris sat beside him patiently, knowing that what Leon had just gone through was far worse than any B.O.W. they could face. It was easy to kill monsters. It was impossible to kill a memory.

“You get one question.”

Leon’s voice was ruined, a raspy scrape of his trachea that was recognizable, but barely. Leon’s face was cast downward, the moonlight above them casting Leon in an ethereal glow that made him almost statuesque, a Roman tragedy or a mourning angel in a cemetery. Chris wished he could reach out and take the man’s hand in his own, chase away the shakes that he could see in Leon’s limbs. Was he trembling from the trauma or the asphyxiation? Chris had been choked out once or twice— Wesker had given him a hell of a time Rockfort Island and Antartica— but he’d never been strangled to the state he’d found Leon in. Nearly dead— _nearly dead._ Too fucking close. 

He had one question.

“Are you gonna be okay?”

Leon’s head snapped up and Chris could finally see his expression. Whatever had been in his face before was gone, replaced with a dull shock that showcased how pale he was. Chris ached to reach out and take Leon into his arms again, shield the man from everything, but they were still on the clock. Chris just set his jaw and waited for Leon to answer.

“I— gave you one question,” Leon said slowly. “And that’s what you ask?”

“That’s all I need to know,” Chris replied. “I know you’re not okay right now, and with the Plaga and the current situation, I know it has to be even worse, but in the future, will you be okay?”

Leon stared at him blankly. “What future?”

Chris stared back. “… You really think you’re going to die here.”

“There’s no other possibility,” Leon said. “My infection is spreading much faster than Ashley’s even though I was infected long after her. My symptoms are far worse.”

“That doesn’t mean anything.”

“I’m getting names mixed up.”Chris knew that. “Like what?” If there was more than just—

Leon looked away. “Ashley and Sherry. And… I forgot Fish’s name for a moment.”

Fuck. “You started talking about this place like it was Raccoon City.”

“Well, it looks like it.”

“No, Leon. You told me you were going to file a complaint against Chief Irons for how easily accessible the sewers were. You said you were worried about the orphans.”

Leon’s expression fell away into that same numbness. “… Oh.” He looked at the ground again. “Now I _really_ think you’re an idiot to believe I can be cured.”

“Ada thinks there’s hope,” Chris argued. “And Ada seems to be on the wrong side of this, meaning she knows a lot more about whether or not you can be saved than we do. If she has faith, then I have faith, and you should too.” He softened his tone. “I know you, Leon. Or at least, I know enough about you to be able to confidently say that you won’t give up. Not like this.”

Leon scowled. But he didn’t argue.

Chris swallowed hard and said something he hated. “You and I both know she cares about you.”

“I don’t know a god damn thing about either of you,” Leon shot back. “I thought I did— then I give you one chance to ask about that _disaster_ , and what do you go with? If I’m gonna be okay? That’s what you choose?”Chris hesitated. “I don’t want to pry.”

“What if I want you to ask?”

“Do you?”

Leon scowled deeper and was suddenly getting to his feet, surprisingly sturdy for a man who had just gone through what Leon had. Chris wanted to argue, but he didn’t want to belittle Leon in any way. If the man thought he was strong enough to get going, then Chris would have to trust him, as he’d said to Ashley before. Chris stood with him and made sure to be close enough to catch Leon should he fall. Leon was mid-breath to begin to speak when his communicator shrieked and they both flinched from the noise. 

For a moment, desolation passed through Leon’s tired blue eyes. If Chris had thought Leon was feeling defeated before, he couldn’t imagine how bad it was now. Whatever that had been— a jilted lover or something worse— had pushed Leon to his limit and Chris didn’t know if he’d be able to give Leon enough will to reach the end. The man clearly thought he was going to die. What if he decided to give up?

Leon pulled the communicator to his ear. Chris wished he could snatch it from Leon’s grip and be the one to take the calls that ran Leon ragged, villains taunting him through the equipment that was meant to ensure his safety. 

_“Enjoy the reunion with your old friend?”_ Saddler asked. 

Leon visibly swallowed and said, “As a matter of fact, I did.” His voice didn’t shake like his hands were and the scratchiness was gone, though Chris knew it shouldn’t be. It didn’t seem impossible for Leon to be able to work around a fucked up throat. Chris didn’t know the half of what Leon had been put through as a child, after all. He could be disturbingly good at these sorts of things. He’d never made a sound every time the Tyrant hit him, after all.

 _“Wonderful,”_ Saddler drawled. _“I wouldn’t want my special guests on the island to feel unattended.”_

Did Saddler even know who Krauser had been to Leon?

Leon shook his head, expression worn as he asked, “Guess I’m supposed to thank you, right?”

 _“Ah!”_ Saddler gasped. _“I have an idea. Since you’re here, why don’t I introduce you to ‘it’. It should keep you busy.”_

“Can’t remember the name?” Leon smiled tightly. “A senior moment, perhaps.”

That—

Who the fuck even was Leon S. Kennedy and how could he face down a traumatic memory like the one that had left him crumbled in Chris’s arms, only to come back swinging with the same careless sarcasm moments later? What the fuck did a person have to go through to have this kind of perseverance? This determination? This genuine strength that made Chris’s heart ache? How could anyone look at someone as brave as Leon and smile about leaving bruises around his neck?

Saddler laughed at Leon’s line. _“Enjoy the fun.”_

The transmission ended and Leon put the communicator away, not looking at Chris. “Doesn’t matter what he has in store for us, our main concern is finding Ashley.”

“Of course,” Chris agreed. “Where do you want me?”

He expected Leon to take the lead again, but— “On point,” Leon ordered. “Keep an eye out for me. I’m— experiencing spots in my vision. I’m not going to be reliable up front. If there are any more Regenerators, just step aside, but you’re point until the worse of the symptoms of the hypoxia fade.”

Hypoxia.

The world alone had Chris feeling sick. “Yessir,” Chris said automatically, not able to keep up pretenses and niceties as the world wobbled beneath his feet. Leon didn’t comment on the slip of the title, probably because he was worse off than Chris at the moment. It was smart to have Chris lead. 

He stepped carefully in front of Leon, facing the ladder that would lead to the level he’d been stranded on, unable to help Leon in a fight for his life for the millionth time. Chris hated his hypocrisy, whether it was on purpose or not. Never fighting alone, never splitting up, and yet what kept happening? Exactly what Chris swore never would. The world was against them both and Chris would never forgive it. 

Chris climbed down the ladder and waited for Leon at the bottom, pushing forward to the metal door that was in their way and opening it to find they were in some sort of stainless steel room that reminded him a lot of Raccoon City. He couldn’t blame Leon for the memory leaps he was making back in time. If anything, Chris was having to check himself for his own déjà vu far more often than he would like. He crossed the room, wary of cameras, and opened the next door to reveal a long hallway with parts of it sectioned by metal lining in the walls, the area well lit and odd little devices along the sectioning metal. Chris was about to step forward when Leon’s had on his shoulder stopped him in his tracks.

“On second thought,” Leon said. “Maybe I should go first.”

“What? Why?”

“You don’t know what this is?”

When Chris shook his head, Leon stepped in front of the man and went to the first section of the hallway. Those small devices moved and collected in a specific pattern along the wall and then bright red beams of pure heat shot between them, changing the shapes they created with the beam in a timed pattern.

“Lasers,” Chris said aloud, feeling a little awestruck that Saddler could actually— well, shit, this was Wesker’s, wasn’t it? But was Wesker actually working with Saddler? It didn’t explain how else Saddler could afford this type of security, even with the President’s attempt to pay the ransom money. “How do we—”

Chris didn’t have time to finish his sentence before Leon was darting through a gap in the beams and standing on the other side, separating them. Chris’s eyes went wide and he made to go after Leon on instinct.

“You won’t fit,” Leon said, putting a hand up as close as he could to the beams without burning himself. “Stay back, Chris, behind the door. I’ve got this, I swear.”

“It’s one thing to fight a zombie, Leon, but it’s another to jump _lasers._ ”

Chris couldn’t see very well, but he was pretty sure Leon rolled his eyes. “You’d be surprised what I’ve learned,” he told Chris, sounding tired. “Just, please— stay back.”

Chris took a single step back. Leon relaxed. Then Leon moved forward, barely phased as another wall of lasers came down, the gaps changing shapes again, Leon walking casually through like this entire fucking fiasco was nothing. Ahead, more dropped down, at least ten bars all crisscrossing randomly, and they were coming at Leon way too fast, holy shit, wait, Leon—

Leaped through a small hole made in the center, rolling through the air and landing gracefully on one knee. Then Leon was back up and walking down the hallway like nothing had happened, even as more lasers sparked to life ahead, this time taking up two sections of the hall, impossible for Leon to jump through because they spanned what looked like five feet, Chris was already stepping forward even though he knew there was no way to save Leon as—

Leon threw himself in the air, twisting in a backflip that perfectly avoided the lasers that passed over and under him, Leon landing on his stomach, then rolling onto his side, onto his back, and kicking himself up into the air in one fluid motion. 

Chris was fucking drooling at this point. 

Leon reached the end of the hall, hitting the button at the opposite locked door. Every single laser that Leon had avoided before conglomerated together in a death net, impassable. But Chris wasn’t even a little concerned. As the beams shot back through the hallway to the door, Chris grinned and waited to see what Leon would do.

Leon took a few steps back down the hall, then ran for the door, jumping and kicking off from the door and reaching so high that he could easily brush the ceiling, Leon arching in another perfect backflip over the top of the laser wall and landing solidly on the ground behind the beams. The door clicked green and the lasers shut off, the security system powering down. 

Leon looked back at Chris from over his shoulder and cocked his head. “You coming?”

Chris swallowed hard and wondered if he should readjust the front of his pants. He felt such _guilt_ for being aroused by a display of agility, but Leon hadn’t been that flexible six years ago. He’d been young and virile, yes, and he’d been bendy enough, but he hadn’t been _agile_ and smooth as a snake across the surface of water. But that wasn’t an excuse. Whoever Krauser was had been a rough relationship, to say the least, and—

_“A fuck as good as Leon is a once in a lifetime thing.”_

It had been sexual. Chris knew that much. As he marched down the hall to Leon, praying that his half-mast cock wasn’t visible through his BDUs, he found himself focusing on the disgust Krauser had used when talking about sex with Leon as a way to combat the arousal. 

The hardest part was that Krauser was right. Sex with Leon— well, there was a reason why Chris hadn’t managed to be with anyone else for the past six years. That one night with Leon, fighting through hell and then experiencing the young man at his most vulnerable. It had ruined Chris for anyone else.

Chris walked cautiously down the hall, but it appeared that Leon had successfully shut down the security system with his fancy footwork. He grinned casually at Leon once he reached the man, saying, “Next time I won’t doubt that stellar STRATCOM training. You sure you weren’t ever in the circus? A trapeze artist would be jealous.”

“I thought about it,” Leon said truthfully. “As a kid. Running away and joining the circus even though it was the eighties and there wasn’t really a circus to begin with.” Leon shrugged as the door in front of them slowly began to unlock, the mechanisms within working valiantly. Whatever was beyond this door was a big deal. “Thought about running away a lot.”

Of course Leon would think of running, but— “You never did.”

“You’re right,” Leon confirmed. 

“Why not?”

“Because I knew they’d always find me no matter how far I ran.” The door began to inch open and Leon wouldn’t meet Chris’s eyes. “They always did.” Chris wasn’t sure Leon was only talking about his parents. 

The doors spread to reveal a modern throne room that was drowning in an ominous, red glow, an extravagant leather chair sitting atop a raised platform against the far wall with the Los Iluminados cult symbol on the wall above it. A red carpet led from the door up to the chair with a wooden carved stand on either side of the chair that either burned incense or were for purely decorative use. The room itself was designed to showcase the throne as the centerpiece, the wall behind it painted and indented with circles behind the throne, like X marking the spot on the map of where the eye should be drawn.

“You think Saddler jacks himself off in here?” Chris asked thoughtlessly, the remnants of the concussion still working within him. Beside Chris, Leon didn’t laugh. Chris hadn’t expected him to. “You should go sit on the throne,” Chris suggested anyways even though he knew Leon wasn’t in the place to be having any kind of fun. “Maybe we take a dump on it.”

“We don’t have time for this, Chris.”

“Sit on the throne, Leon.”

Leon turned to him. “Sherry is—”

“Ashley,” Chris corrected gently. When the correction had Leon’s argument falling away, Chris repeated himself, his fact that Leon needed the rest unspoken between them, but suddenly louder than a jet engine. “Sit on the throne, Leon.”

Leon scowled, but stomped forward and fell into the red throne, dropping into it and crossing one leg over the other, glaring up at Chris with those sharp blue eyes, daring him to say anything even as Leon sat in the throne like he belonged there, a powerful king gazing down at his subjects with grace and wisdom. Chris looked up at Leon from the level below and found his breath catching in his chest, struck with the desire to fall to his knees in front of Leon and swear— swear something, swear himself, his loyalty, his gun, his body. Swear his everything to Leon and follow him to the end of the earth. 

Chris cleared his throat and managed a grin. “You look good in red.”

Leon’s glare died away into something shocked. “Are you kidding me?”

What had Chris done now? 

“You heard Krauser,” Leon said, the name coming out so casually that Chris clutched his gun tighter. “You heard the things he said, you _know_ what he did.”

“I don’t.”

“We _fucked,_ Chris.”

Leon’s voice was fraying at the edges and— Chris wasn’t sure, it could be a trick of the light, but it looked like that gorgeous blue was bleeding red again. His grip on the armrests of the throne was violent enough for Chris to see the white of Leon’s knuckles from here, a few steps beneath Leon, Chris looking up and feeling small. “Krauser and I fucked,” Leon said again, spitting the last word. “I let him take me and make me his and I was his slut. Do you understand?”

Jesus Christ.

“You’re not a slut,” Chris denied because he couldn’t think about the other things Leon had said. Had he been in love with Krauser? How could someone as pure as Leon love a monster like that? “If anyone says that to you, you leave them.”

“What if I liked it?”

Chris swallowed hard. “Did you?”

Leon’s wild anger faltered. The flicker in his expression told Chris that Leon hadn’t liked being called a slut one bit. “No,” Leon said, the single word almost a whisper in the throne room that suddenly felt oppressively cold. “No, I didn’t. But I… I didn’t have anything else.” Leon looked down at the ground between them. “Krauser was all I had, the only person I’d let touch me since you. And then we fought together and I thought I could mean _something_ to him, and he was so kind to me in the hospital, but then…” Leon looked up at Chris. His eyes were red and glimmering with unshed tears. “But then he left me and I didn’t know why. Not until now. He left because of you.” Leon’s voice seemed strangled with a sob. “How is it you ruin everything good in my life without even being here?”

That—

Chris went up the steps and went done on his knees in front of the throne, staring up at Leon from over the man’s legs, his MP5 laid to the side so Chris could put his hands atop Leon’s boots, holding the man’s ankles. “I’m sorry,” he said, staring into that red, unafraid. “I’m just so sorry.”

“Stop apologizing,” Leon told him. He turned his head away, but with Chris so far beneath him, Leon couldn’t hide from Chris behind his hair. “Saying sorry won’t change a thing. I-I know you didn’t mean to leave me behind. Not like how it turned out to be.”“That doesn’t change that it happened.”

“Well what about you?” Chris startled to have the question turned on him, but Leon didn’t give him time to think. “We can see here that I tried and failed miserably to move on, but you didn’t even make an attempt.”

“I did,” Chris defended. “I tried dating.”

“And?”

Chris grimaced. “Never made it past the first date.”

Leon shook his head. “Chris, you— have you really not been with Jill?”

“I haven’t,” Chris confirmed, still on his knees in front of Leon and enjoying being here despite the circumstances. “I don’t have feelings for her, Leon, not like she wishes I did. She’s my family. Practically my sister. I’d die for her a thousand times over, but I’m not in love with her. The idea of being with her, romantically or sexually, is just…” Chris shrugged, feeling a little helpless because he couldn’t think of the right words. “It’s wrong,” he finally settled on. “The idea of being with her is wrong.”

“Why?” 

Chris suddenly couldn’t look at Leon. “Because she isn’t you.”

They were both very quiet for a moment. 

“Jesus, Chris.”

Chris smiled wretchedly. “I know. Pretty pathetic.”

“I’m _dying._ ”

“I hope not,” Chris denied in a whisper. “If you die, then I guess that’ll be it for me.”

“You won’t even try? Won’t even put in the effort?”

“Why would I?” Chris asked softly. “When I was little, my mother told me about how she met my father. That it took her only a few months to realize that he was ‘the one,’ as she put it. She told me that it’s okay to date and fall in love, but every so often there is a singular and specific ‘one’ that you might be lucky enough to meet in your entire lifetime, and once you meet them, you know there will never be anyone else, no matter how hard you try. And my father said the same thing.” He smiled sadly. “It’s why— it’s horrible to say, but I was happy my parents died together if they had to die at all. So they’d never have to know the pain of living without the other. The pain I felt when I didn’t have you.” Chris stared at the threads of Leon’s pants, not able to look at his face. “Can I touch you?”

“… You already are.”

“Still.”

“You don’t have to ask, Chris.”

“Can I? Please.”

“… Always.”

Chris brought his hands up from Leon’s ankles to rest on his knees, leaning in and pressing against the other man, his head resting across Leon’s thigh. “I don’t think you’re going to die,” he murmured. “But if you do, it’ll be the same as it was for me the past six years. Clinging to the hope that you’re in a better place and telling myself I’m okay with being alone. And I really was. Because I knew that trying to be with anyone else would be useless. None of them were you. None of them have your voice and your eyes and your hands and your mouth. None of them are Leon S. Kennedy. And Leon S. Kennedy is the only person I want.” 

Chris shrugged uselessly, soaking in the warmth of Leon’s body like a leech. “I’ll be alone. That’s okay. Better than forcing myself to stomach the touch of a man or woman that isn’t you. I… think I ruined myself just as much as I ruined you. So at least it’s fair, right? At least I’m no happier than you.”

Chris felt silent and Leon didn’t respond. The cold began to feel dangerous and heavy. Chris told himself he was stupid for speaking from the heart and was going to pull away when fingers gently carded into his hair and pushed through the short locks, blunt nails dragging pleasantly across his scalp. 

Leon was touching him.

“Back in the castle,” Leon murmured. “You said you love me.”

Chris nodded, pushing into the hand on his head. “I did. I do.”

Leon paused for another long moment. “I love you too.”

Chris shut his eyes so he wouldn’t cry. “After this,” he said. “After we get out of here, leave STRATCOM. Come to the BSAA. I promise I’ll take care of you.”

“I can’t,” Leon denied. “I signed my soul away. And Sherry needs me.”

Chris shook his head. “Sherry’s not your daughter, Leon.”

The hand yanked itself from Chris’s hair and then Leon was standing so abruptly that Chris almost caught Leon’s knee with his nose. He looked up at the man with a bit of bewilderment, wondering what he’d done wrong aside from speaking the truth. Sherry Birkin wasn’t Leon’s daughter, not even legally. If he’d been USSTRATCOM this whole time, then Sherry was undoubtedly with a foster family, being raised like the normal girl she deserved to be. Leon had gotten her somewhere safe and she was living her life in prosperity. She wasn’t Leon’s responsibility anymore. Chris doubted the government would even allow Leon to see her.

“There’s something here,” Leon said, voice stiff as he rounded the throne and went to the panel behind it. There was a gust of air as a door swished open. “An elevator. Let’s go.”

“Leon—”

“Don’t fucking talk to me.”

The harshness of Leon’s tone was comparable to being shot at. Chris felt a little like they were back where they’d started, when Leon had used their own words against him and treated Chris like he was poison. Everything had been going so well, Leon tentatively accepting Chris into his life again, and yet it had all been torn apart by— by what? The truth? _Sherry wasn’t Leon’s responsibility._ It wasn’t fair to put the weight of the world and then a _daughter_ on Leon’s shoulders. The man could only carry so much on his own. He wasn’t— he wasn’t Sherry’s father. He was the man who’d gotten her to safety. Sherry owed Leon her life. Leon owed Sherry nothing.

“Coming, Sir?”

Chris stood and grit his teeth. “You’re acting like an asshole,” he accused as he picked up his gun and went to where Leon was standing on a small, circular, metal elevator. “I’m right. She’s not your daughter.”

“Say that again and I’ll shoot you for real.”

Chris’s gaze cut down to where Leon’s hand hovered above Rot on his waist. Whereas Chris had been afraid of the animosity between him and Leon before, now Chris was just pissed. “You can’t just keep throwing me around like this.”

“I’m going to be dead by sunrise,” Leon said, dripping with animosity. “I can do whatever the fuck I want.”

“So you treat me like a plaything?”

“You have no idea what it’s like to be treated like that,” Leon spat as the elevator descended. “All you’ve done is wallow in your misery and lead Valentine along. You have no idea what it’s like to be a plaything. You’re the one who treats everyone else like they’re a toy.” The elevator lurched as it reached its destination, a cavern stretching before them, giving them little choice of where to go. “You’re the one who throws people around. Valentine and I are just the idiots that are still in love with you.” 

Leon stepped off the elevator and into the tunnel while Chris reeled from the words he’d said. Was that really how Leon saw it? How Jill saw it? Chris had tried so hard to keep from being cruel, but—

No, Leon was wrong. He was hurt and scared and lashing out like a cornered animal. Leon knew Chris loved him wholly and intrinsically without an iota of selfishness. Leon knew Chris wasn’t like that, wasn’t like Krauser or whoever else had shaped Leon into such an angry, defensive person. Leon was just trying to protect himself because he seemed to think there was no hope for him and Chris, even if Leon did survive this. He seemed like he was going to refuse to leave USSTRATCOM for a girl that he owed nothing to. And that wasn’t fair to either of them.

He followed Leon through the cavern, sights up and alert and hoping Leon had gotten over his spotty vision from the hypoxia because god knew Leon wouldn’t tell him willingly when he was this upset. They followed the tunnel to a huge set of metal doors that looked like they were designed to hold back something _awful._ Chris looked up the doors that were two stories tall and grimaced. Leon didn’t even hesitate, pushing them open like he wasn’t afraid of anything.

Chris wished he’d accepted Leon’s declaration of love and left it at that. He’d been dreaming of hearing Leon say those words for so long, and once Chris finally had, he’d ruined it in grandiose style. God, how did he always manage to fuck things up? Leon pressed deeper into the darkness, tall and resolute. Chris hoped the anger he’d instilled in the man was giving him some sort of strength. He was sure Leon was adept at turning a bad thing into a resource. 

They went deeper in the caves, turned a corner, and—

“What the fuck is this?” 

Leon’s question echoed Chris’s thoughts. In front of them was a drop off into nothing with a series of cages hung between their end of the cave and the place they needed to go, across this deep pit. There was a soft beeping noise up a natural ramp of rock to their left. Leon went for the noise, not looking at the odd “bridge” that they would inevitably have to cross. Chris followed Leon and they both reached the puddle that held a blinking red light at the same time.

“Fuck,” Chris bit out. “The tracker.”

“Ashley,” Leon huffed, bending down to scoop up the device. Leon stood and looked over the small device, scowling. “It wasn’t working down here anyways, but couldn’t they have—”

The ground suddenly shook beneath their feet. Leon steadied himself and looked to Chris with wide eyes. “What was that?” The ground trembled again and Leon cried out as he was thrown, Chris reaching out to catch himself on Leon before they could both topple over as the ceiling above them began to crumble away. They met eyes, familiar fear of the unknown passing between them, before Leon was suddenly running past and yanking Chris with him just as the wall behind broke away and an actual fucking _monster_ burst forward, yowling. Chris and Leon fell into the first of those hanging cages and the fucking thing jumped down with them and—

Chris didn’t know what he was looking at but he despised it regardless. 

A grotesque, bloated body with four legs that kept it standing, the legs arched outwards like an insect’s and the feet like elephant stumps with sharp claws, swollen sacks of muscle or fat lining the stomach. From the bloated underbelly came a human torso with a face out of nightmares, human but with jowls and a tongue longer than Chris’s arm. And the torso’s arms were even worse, one almost normal until he saw the demonic claws at the end of the fingers and the other like a scorpion’s tail, yet as nimble as an octopus tentacle. Every step it took had the cage shaking beneath their feet. Chris and Leon stared at this monstrosity, both of them stunned something like this even existed. It threw its awful arms back and roared, the mandibles of its mouth stretching wide to accommodate the furious sound and the tongue and Chris was definitely going to throw up.

“Sharp corners,” Leon said. “The Benelli and the .45 will work best, but we need to separate.”

Chris knew he was right and hated it. “Let me fight the giant,” he told Leon firmly. “You got to have all the fun last time.” And Leon was still reeling from Krauser, still had the red eyes, still had the Plaga, it was about time Chris pulled some of his weight. “Figure out how to get us out of this glorified birdcage.”

Leon cursed and they both stepped back as the insectile-monster advanced, that long tentacle swiping through the air and them both ducking in unison. Leon came back up, holding out the .45 with a grim expression. “You watch yourself, Sir,” he ordered sharply. “I better not have to rescue your sorry ass.”

The lame threat had Chris grinning despite the circumstances. “On you, Kennedy,” he said before dropping to the grating and rolling beneath the reach of the monster’s arms, firing a slug into its back with a shout of, “Come get a kiss, ugly!” The creature roared and turned from Leon, following Chris into the maze of shipping containers that made tight corners and blind spots Chris’s biggest enemy. Chris fired an even staccato of shots, not enough to waste ammo, but just enough to keep the thing’s attention as Leon did god knew what. As Chris was pushed deeper into the container, he saw there was no obvious way out, and the thing wasn’t taking damage from the magnum. Chris counted his bullets and dropped beneath another swipe of that long arm, his knees hitting the grating beneath hard. The sharp metal bit through his pants and his skin stung. The creature slammed its stumped foot down and Chris fell to his side to dodge, rolling on his shoulder and hitting a container, suddenly cornered. 

“Oh fuck,” he said before that long tentacle of an arm shot out and wrapped around his neck, strangling him. Chris struggled, gritting his teeth, the tentacle wrapping tighter and trying to separate the notches of his spine, trying to dislocate his fucking head. Chris pulled at the appendage, overcome by the smell of rotting meet and backwash with the slimy tentacle around his neck. The thing started to lift Chris into the air and he kicked uselessly, air robbed from his lungs, stars spotting his vision. Chris gasped and tried to pull at the grip around his neck, but it was too strong. He wheezed and squeezed his eyes shut and prayed—

“Chris!”

There was a bang and a splatter of hot fluid across the back of Chris’s head, and then he was dropped to the ground, hitting the floor wrong and bending over to clutch at his bruised neck, gasping for breath. Human hands grabbed at the back of his shirt and tugged him to his feet, Leon pulling Chris away from the monster with Rot out, panic making the man paler than normal, the red eyes flaring. Then Leon was yanking him through a door that hadn’t been open before, the cage they’d been in dropping into the abyss just as they got beyond the threshold. 

Leon’s hands went from Chris’s back to his neck, gentle, warm fingertips chasing away the aches with the man looming above Chris, feverishly checking him over. “I didn’t think it could—”

Chris bat the hands away, wishing he could be selfish but glad that Leon was concerned for him even if he was still angry with Chris for what he’d said. “We need to get moving,” he said, already pushing himself to his feet. His throat ached but he had a feeling Leon’s throat was worse off considering human hands dug deeper than the thick meat of a tentacle. “Whatever you did before, do it again. I have a feeling—”

Before he could finish the sentence, the monster dropped down from the ceiling again, shrieking its anger at being thwarted. Chris pushed Leon behind him, bringing out the .45 again and firing two shots into that wretched tongue that wagged like a dog’s. “Move it, Leon!”

Leon sprung forward, skidding beneath the monster, casting one last worried look at Chris from over his shoulder before disappearing amongst the crates again. At least Leon didn’t want Chris dead despite how angry the man had to be. Chris pushed the thought away and brought out the shotgun, wanting to keep the .45 ammo as long as he could as he sprayed the monster liberally, keeping out of reach, knowing he couldn’t hang on the luck that Leon would save him again. He spun low with each swipe of the tentacle, inching backwards down the crate maze, keeping the thing’s attention as best he could. 

He could still hear Leon moving around beyond, working quickly to solve whatever puzzle this would take. The stomping feet of the monster shook Chris’s focus, and at one point the cage wavered dangerously, Chris nearly being tipped over, the shrapnel of the shotgun going high. The monster lunged and Chris dropped to the ground, covering his head with one arm, and then pulled out his knife, slamming it into the soft underbelly of the monster with the other. It screamed and stumbled, Chris crawling out from beneath it and running, turning back to see it pursuing as—

“Chris, come on!”

He looked forward to see Leon standing in front of an open gate, Rot up again and providing cover fire as Chris scrambled away and darted into the next cage, wrapping an arm around Leon’s waist to yank him in with him. The cage dropped behind them and Chris was almost certain the creature had plummeted below with it. 

“Is this the last one?” he demanded, arm still around Leon’s waist, who was reloading Rot and staring down at the abyss with a grim expression. “That thing better—”

A yowl from above and then the creature flung itself down to join them. “You gotta be kidding me,” Chris said, voice strained. Leon went limp in his grip for a split second, the younger man undeniably tired. Chris thoughtlessly held him a little tighter, something almost like a hug. “We can do this,” he said for both their benefit. “I’ve got the ammo. Let’s get moving, Kennedy.”

“On you,” Leon breathed in his ear before pulling away and sprinting into the maze, skidding around a corner while Chris brought up the shotgun again and fired his last three shells into the thing’s disturbing body. The creature roared and its body undulated like parasites were squirming beneath the skin before something burst from its back in a spew of puss and blood, a third extension, a long limb with pincers the size of a person jutting from the end, big enough to chop a man in half. Chris’s blood ran cold at what he was seeing. He’d already shoved so many bullets into this thing and it was only just now reaching its secondary stage of infection. Chris didn’t have the ammo for this. 

He clenched his jaw, stood firm, and told himself Leon was going to get out of this cage. He pulled out the .45 and held his breath for the last five bullets in it, steadily moving back to where Leon had disappeared, trying to keep from wasting any ammo as the thing lashed out with the pincers, Chris slamming to his knees to avoid the reach. The sound of the pincers slicing through the air had his skin crawling and he fired up into the bottom of the jaw of the monster in an effort to stun it enough to get away. 

Four bullets left. 

Chris struggled out from beneath the creature again and ran around a corner, aiming his sights down the hall where it would come from. It rounded the corner sharply, lunging at Chris. He fired twice and sent it reeling back. 

Two bullets left. 

Chris ducked away and fled as the pincers shot out again, the surrounding air distorted by the speed of the deadly chop. His back hit a wall and he fired again, the creature screaming.

One bullet left.

Chris’s hands were shaking as the creature loomed above him. If he went any further in, he’d bring the monster on top of Leon, possibly ruining their chance of escaping in time or even putting Leon in life threatening danger. If Chris retreated back the way he came, he didn’t know if he’d make it to the other end to escape the cage in time. And if he stayed here, then he would be mince meat.

Of all his options, the ones that kept Leon safe were the only ones he considered. Maybe Leon would have enough time to escape if this thing was preoccupied by Chris’s death.

He squared his shoulder, steadied his feet, brought the .45 up and fired his last bullet dead between the eyes, then pulled out Matilda as the monster writhed in fury. Leon’s gun in Chris’s hand would be a fitting way to go. He fought the urge to shut his eyes as the pincer loomed overhead, the guillotine blade ready to drop. Chris clenched his jaw and told himself to be brave. 

“Chris, I got it!”

Fuck bravery, fuck sacrifice, Leon was calling him and that was more important. Chris dodged the swipe, letting the pincers break through the shipping crate behind him and keep the creature stuck for the split second it took for Chris to run to where he’d heard Leon’s voice. The cage shuddered tellingly beneath his feet and he heard metal groan, the cage about to drop like the others before it. Chris got to the end and saw Leon hanging from a hook on an industrial strength chain, the man’s eyes red and wild as he watched Chris run for him. Behind, Chris heard the clatter of those feet on the grating and knew he didn’t have a lot of breathing room. The scent of flesh was just behind him, he could feel the swipe of the pincers through the air. Chris got to the end of the cage and leaped into the air just as the floor gave away, Leon’s hand coming out to grab his as Chris’s gut fell out from under him with the abyss that stretched beneath. 

The monster yowled mournfully into the air as it was dropped and Leon held fast to Chris, both of them swinging through the air towards the rocky ledge that they dropped onto in unison, gasps of relief leaving them both as they rolled across the stone and laid there.

Adrenaline crashed hard. Leon started laughing. Oddly enough, Chris joined in. “That fucking sucked,” Chris confessed, his voice still a little raw from being choked out before. “Holy shit, Leon, how the fuck do you do this shit alone?”

“A lot of luck and a lot of stubbornness,” Leon told him, almost giggling. “Remind me to kick Saddler in the balls next we see him for thinking up _that._ ” Then Leon rolled onto his side, looking to Chris, those red eyes bleeding concern. “Are you alright? It held you up—”

“I’m fine,” Chris interrupted gently. Then, because he needed to know, “Still mad at me?”

Leon groaned softly. “Why do you— jesus, Chris, I’m not, alright?” Leon went up on his knees and ran his hands through his hair, looking around the area. “I’m not. I’m not mad. I— you don’t know anything. You don’t know _shit._ ” Chris meant to ask what he thought Chris didn’t know when Leon continued. “We need to keep moving. They took the tracker off Ashley and it was still functioning despite being in the water. They haven’t gone far.”

Chris nodded his agreement. “We’ll find her.” They both stood and and looked to the ladder to their left that would take them out of this hellhole, Leon—

There was a roar from behind them, down the cliff, less terrifying and more annoying at this point. Leon and Chris traded weary glances just as the monster flung itself at them from over the ledge, Leon grabbing Chris’s hand as they both ran away from the monster that just wouldn’t fucking quit. It chased them on its grubby little stumps, both him and Leon making a jump into a cavern as a gate dropped just behind them. Chris almost thought they were safe until he saw the creature burrow into the ground and the soil between them disturbed seconds after. 

“Shit,” Leon bit out before they both leaped back, the monster bursting out of the ground between them with a horrifying sound. 

“Just give up already!” Chris screamed, sounding far more terrified than he wanted. 

“Eyes up!”

Chris shot his hand in the air to catch the gun for him that Leon threw and— It wasn’t one of their regular guns. A Colt M1911 with a laser sighting on the top, a serious gun that feels heavy and _powerful_ in Chris’s grip, a fifteen round clip already slammed in. He had no idea where Leon had found this gun, but he loved whoever had lost it for them to find. Chris grinned feral and bright and took aim, slugging a bullet into the monster’s face and fighting the urge to laugh as it howled. Rot fired reliably just beyond and Chris knew they could do this. 

They worked quickly, peppering the creature with bullets, Leon taking fire when Chris retreated and Chris firing when Leon retreated, a steady tandem of destruction that the monster couldn’t survive. It was one thing to take them on alone— but together, Leon and Chris were death incarnate in a way that made Chris feel like he could take on the Reaper himself. The monster tried valiantly to take them out, digging to avoid the onslaught, but always surfacing to more bullets in its ugly hide. It died slowly, over encumbered by the lead in its body and the loss of whatever was inside of this thing. It wasn’t long before the monster gave one last agonized cry before it slumped to the ground and decayed rapidly in front of their eyes. Another giant felled. 

The gate swung up to release them and Leon clapped Chris’s arm with the brightest smile pulling at his gorgeous face. “Stupid to try to take us both, right?”

“My thoughts exactly,” Chris replied as the adrenaline faded again, leaving him tired but satisfied. He tucked the gun away, doubtful he’d find the bullets for it ever again. Leon smiled wider and bumped his shoulder into Chris’s before heading forward, leaving the cavern to seek out the ladder that would get them the fuck out of here.

“Let me go first,” Leon said. “I’m not injured, but I’m definitely not at my best after that. If something comes up behind us and decided it wants to pull me back down, I won’t be able to hold on. I know it’s unfair to ask this of you, but you have a better chance of keeping your grip.”

Chris blinked slowly as déjà vu washed over him again. Leon— had said that to him before, hadn’t he? Those exact words, ages ago. What had it been for? What—

Chris’s throat clenched. He suddenly remembered his line. Chris didn’t know how he could remember, but he did. “And... if there’s something above?”

Chris’s blood ran cold when Leon said, “Then we fall back and find another way.” Did Leonknow he was repeating himself, word for word, from six years ago? Those red eyes gave nothing away. Chris’s throat was dry.

“Go for it.”

Chris watched Leon carefully as the man strode forward and climbed the ladder. He seemed _fine._ Why was he suddenly falling back into Raccoon City again? And how had he used such specific language when Chris wasn’t able to remember half of the specifics of that night? What was the Plaga doing to Leon and why was it happening in such random spurts? Maybe— maybe the adrenaline kept the Plaga at bay. When Leon was fighting, he wasn’t getting lost in his head. It was the moments in between the battle for their lives that would be Leon’s undoing. 

Chris followed Leon up the ladder, his joy of overcoming their last hurdle falling away in the face of what was happening to the man he loved. Hell, what if the reason Leon wasn’t mad at him anymore was simply because Leon had forgotten about the anger entirely? Chris had no way of knowing what Leon lost to the Plaga and no way of knowing if it would be permanent. A horrible part of Chris hoped Leon would forget Chris’s abandonment of him. He shoved the intrusive thought away. That just— that was fucking wrong of him to want. 

They reached what seemed to be a lower storage room or another, a smell permeating Chris’s sense again in a way that had him wishing he could plug his nose. Leon climbed a smaller, secondary ladder and scoped the area, letting out a small noise of triumph. As Chris joined him, Leon held out a clip for the .45 and a couple shells for the shotgun along with some ammo for himself. “Jesus, fuck, thanks,” Chris breathed, taking the bullets and reloading the weapons with a sigh of relief. “At least I won’t be caught with my pants down.”

“Too bad,” Leon shot back. Chris stalled, really trying to figure out where Leon’s head was at. Was he talking to his Leon or the Leon from six years ago? Or maybe even before that. Maybe the child that had cowered in hiding or the teenager that had taken the blows with an emptiness to his eyes. Chris didn’t know which Leon was with him— he just prayed it was a Leon with good aim.

They walked together, neither of them leading the other as they went along a cliffside, fencing on their right keeping them from peering below and seeing just how high up they were. The rocky cliffs on their left gave Chris the distinct impression they were being funneled into something else, though Chris couldn’t imagine what could be worse than that monster back in the cave. They turned a winding corner and saw a set of intricately carved doors set into a wall of stone, definitely an old ruin of historical nature with a blue glow lighting the cold stone, Fish standing in wait for them.

“Be careful,” Fish told them both once they were in earshot. “This— isn’t going to be pretty.”

Beside him, Leon sighed gently. “Like it’s been sunshine and flowers so far, right?”

“I can’t give ya much,” Fish replied. “All I can say is ya can’t lose your heads.”

“And if we do?” Chris asked.

“Then ya lose your heads— for real.”

So it was another fight, something bigger and more dangerous than what they’d already faced judging by the grim look in Fish’s eyes. Why couldn’t they catch a break every once in a while? “You got anything we can use?” Chris asked.

Fish paused, then shook his head. “No one can help ya.”

“No one but each other,” Leon said firmly. “We— we can handle it.”

“What’s the year, Mr. Kennedy?”

Leon faltered and Chris felt sick. Then, after a moment of struggled though, Leon replied, “Two thousand and five.” Oh thank fuck. “I’m here, I promise,” he told them both but mainly looking at Chris. “It just takes a second. I swear to you, I’m with you.”

Chris nodded, believing him. He looked to the huge, foreboding doors before them and adjusted his grip on the magnum, then switched it out for Matilda. For some reason, holding Leon’s gun was suddenly grounding him in a way it hadn’t in years. “On you, Leon.”

The other man was visibly relieved and smiled shakily. “On me.”

They both gave Fish a sharp nod of goodbye before heading to the gate as one, ready to face their next giant. Words weren’t needed between them any longer. They pushed open the doors in unison and brought their guns up, ready and waiting. 

The area before them was the ruins of a castle or a temple, architecture collapsed into rubble, columns and walls and ruined rooms that would be a bitch to navigate. Chris and Leon went down the easy path that cut straight through the center, the path lit with bonfires encased in metal framework that seemed less modern in structure than everything else they’d come across, more chaotic like the ruins around them. Leon tensed and Chris knew he was thinking the same thing. This was definitely a battle ground. Leon glanced to him and said, “I’ve got a really bad—”

The scuff of feet on stone had Leon and Chris both turning to the right in unison, Chris not bringing his gun up until he saw _Krauser_ and heard the little hitch in Leon’s breath beside him, the barely swallowed fear. The man that Chris now knew needed to be put down like a fucking dog looked different. His shirt was gone and red war paint was smeared across his scarred face, a red beret sitting atop his head, Air Force, and a vest slung over his flat chest where his arms were crossed. Krauser stepped out of the shadows like a bad dream and Chris immediately took a step in front of Leon, shielding the smaller man from view. 

“So, you two are all hooked up now, is that it?” 

“Where’s Ashley?” Chris shouted, as Leon stood firm behind him, though he could feel the anxiety permeating off the man. Chris had never seen Leon so completely afraid of a person. 

“Do you really wanna know?” Krauser shot back, a chortle caught in his throat. Then he looked ahead, cutting his chin up. “She’s beyond that gate.” Krauser began to pace. “But you’ll need three insignias to open it.”

Chris and Leon followed his walk, Leon staying behind Chris out of some sort of instinct as he asked, “What’re you gonna do, Krauser?”

Krauser kept his gaze forward, ignoring Leon. “There’s one in the north and the other in the east.”

“And let me guess,” Chris said. “You got the last one.”

Krauser turned to them, his deadly eyes flashing. “Pretty much means you’re on a tight leash.” He uncrossed his arms, pulling a Brügger & Thomet MP9 nine-by-nineteen from the crook of his arm and aiming the red sight on Chris’s chest. Leon’s elbow caught Chris in the side, pushing away out of the sight so Leon could stand in front now, the red dot lined up with his throat, making Krauser grin wide.

“Sounds like you thought this one out pretty well,” Leon said, standing tall even with the gun aimed for his jugular. “Guess I shouldn’t be surprised. Grunts like you are pretty good at following rules— even their own.”

“What’s a slut got to say about following the rules?” Krauser replied casually as Chris bristled at the word. “You told your precious Redfield about the fun you and I had or are you keeping him in the dark?” Krauser sneered. “You fucking special agents are all alike— get one order from the president and suddenly you’re better than the rest of us. Redfield may be a fucking idiot for taking you back, but he’ll get wise again soon.”

“Redfield can speak for himself,” Chris snapped as he kept his own sights on the large man, watching his trigger finger closely. “And Redfield doesn’t give a damn about what you and Leon did.”

“So I guess you like second hand goods,” Krauser shot back, turning his attention to Chris again, thank god. “Tell me, Redfield, you get all your shit from Salvation Army, or is Leon just a special kind of broken that turns you on?”

“Leon’s a fucking person,” Chris spat, strengthening his stance, wishing he could launch himself across the distance and throttle this monster. “You talk about him like he’s trash when he’s more of a hero than you could ever hope to be. Put him down all you want, you’ll _never_ have him again.” He flexed his grip on his gun and swallowed hard past the anger. “You said I got you wise enough to leave him? You’ve never made a worse decision. Leon S. Kennedy is the best thing that could ever happen to anyone and I’ll be damned before I let you tell him otherwise.”

Krauser grinned wide. “Oh, I did more than leave him, Redfield. I killed the bitch.”

Chris’s resolve faltered. “… What?”

Leon threw something at Krauser before Chris could stomach what he’d been told, a glint of metal that sent Krauser reeling back defensively as Leon grabbed Chris by the arm and yanked him to cover. Bullets from Krauser fettered the path behind their feet, Leon throwing Chris behind a wall and skidding behind it as well just as the shots began to skim the back of Chris’s boots. 

“We can’t split up!” Leon shouted over the barrage of fire. The man was pale and his hands were shaking. Chris ducked low as shattered rock rained down on their heads. “We— we can’t—”

“I’m not leaving you!” Chris shouted back, knowing what he was afraid of, strategy be damned. “Go, Leon!”

Leon looked relieved as he ducked down and slipped between the ruins, looking over his shoulder to make sure Chris was following him. They darted between broken walls, escaping the shower of bullets, Leon’s eyes darting about to get his bearings. “North and east,” Leon said mostly to himself, expression harried. “North and east, fuck. We should split—”

“Going back on your word already?” Chris tried to smile in a reassuring way as he pressed himself to a wall and peeked out, looking for any sign of Krauser. “We’re not spitting up.”

“There are two insignias for us to collect, we should—”

“We’re not splitting up.” Chris thought he saw a flash of red between two columns outside. “On you, Leon.”

 _“How sweet.”_ The gravelly voice from above had Chris aiming up and firing at where Krauser swung down from the top of the tower that had been blown in half behind them. Blood splattered and Chris let out a hiss of triumph, and—

Krauser kept coming, rolling with his drop and pulling out that knife that Chris could see was a carbon copy of the one Leon had, holding it above his head and bringing it down on Chris before he could react because _Chris had shot this fucker and he was still moving_ what the fuck had he done to himself? There was the sharp clatter of metal on metal and Chris dropped to the ground as Leon swung his own knife from behind, deflecting Krauser’s stab at Chris’s head. Krauser laughed, the bullet holes in his body bleeding sluggishly as he said, “Very good, Leon,” the words alone making Chris’s skin crawl. From below, Chris kicked Krauser’s knee, sending the leg inwards and breaking the bone. He heard the crack, that should stop him, now—

Krauser recovered and spun on his good leg, his boot coming around to sink into the meat of Chris’s shoulder, sending Chris flying across the ground. He hit the ground hard, barely keeping from knocking his head as Leon cried out his name. Chris came back up on his knees without a hitch, bringing up the .45 to slug another bullet into Krauser’s chest as the man loomed above Leon with a predatory gaze. The bullet found its home just shy of Krauser’s heart and the man finally stumbled, a laugh rumbling from his throat. “Now that’s what I’m talking about,” he said as he threw something at the ground and the world exploded in overpowering brightness, Krauser gone as the light faded.

Leon scrambled to Chris’s side and pulled him to his feet, Leon white as a sheet and already frayed at the edges. “We have to keep moving,” Chris said, taking Leon by the hand to pull him along, realizing Leon wasn’t in any place to be leading. Chris hadn’t knocked his head too badly, he could still tell east from west, heading to the east just because it was closest. This place was a fucking maze of decimated history and seemed fitting enough for the complicated jackass that Krauser was proving to be. Saying he’d killed Leon— no one could kill Leon. And Leon was alive and breathing in Chris’s hand, so fuck what Krauser was saying. Chris refused to believe anyone could kill Leon S. Kennedy and live to tell the tale themselves. 

He could hear Krauser’s boots stalking them, that awful laugh that had Leon flinching and squeezing Chris’s hand tight enough to threaten to break the fragile bones. They were nearing a set of buildings that were mostly intact, providing more cover but also more blind spots. Krauser’s voice echoed across the stone and Chris raised the .45, frantically searching for where the man could be.

“Your precious little Kennedy is a good lay, I’ll give you that,” Krauser was saying as Chris tried to keep his focus on the way in front. “So tight, so responsive, so fucking _loud._ Like a wild animal in the desperate throes of a death rattle, screaming for attention and help.”

Behind him, Leon let out this wounded noise and Chris pulling Leon up and closer, wishing he could find somewhere for Leon to hide. 

“I never even had to worry about getting him off,” Krauser continued idly like he was reading off a list of ingredients on the back of a cereal box. “Suffocating seemed to do the trick. That diseased little body clenching around me as he came. You remember what he looks like, Redfield? The way his eyes slip back and that pretty little mouth falls open like he wants you to shove your cock in there, choke him with more than your hands?”

“You sick bastard,” Chris spat. “He doesn’t want this! He’s not your fucking toy!”

“You’re right,” Krauser agreed. “He’s my perfect little statue with broken wings.”

Leon was suddenly stepping forward and firing Rot into a hole in the ceiling Chris had missed. He heard Krauser snarl from above and the bullets hit something wet and fleshy, and Chris was proud of Leon for being brave enough to make the shot when he could, overcoming the fear. With Krauser distracted by the new bullet holes in his BDUs, Chris pulled Leon along and up a set of rounding stairs to what appeared to be a huge open room, half of it walked by columns facing the sea. On the floor was a golden insignia and Chris ran forward to snatch it up, turning to Leon so they could get out of here and after the other before—

Krauser climbed the staircase they’d come up, cornering them against the sea. The man pulled his blade from its sheath, the metal glinting in the air, sandstone muffling his footsteps. Chris put his arm out to bring Leon behind him again, but Leon stepped forward, his own knife coming out.

“What do you intend to do restoring Umbrella?” Leon demanded. 

Krauser began to circle them so Chris and Leon moved together, never letting Krauser get too close. “To bring order and balance to this insane world of ours,” Krauser declared, sounding like the madman Chris knew he was. 

“A psycho like you can’t bring order or balance,” Leon shot back as Chris handed the insignia over to him, a shard of metal with a panther embezzled on the gold.

“You don’t seriously think a conservative mind can chart a new course for the world, do you?” Krauser asked. “I guess you and Redfield are the perfect pair— two idiots beating their heads on the wall like protecting this world is the way to ensure peace. Wesker seemed to know what he was talking about.”

“Wesker?” Chris repeated, taking a step forward, breaking the spin in the face of his own vendetta. “You know working with that monster is your death sentence! He doesn’t care about anyone but himself! He’ll kill you to attain his goals!”

Krauser grinned sharply. “A man after my own heart,” he growled before lunging forward and swinging the knife through the air, Chris barely bending out of reach. Leon came surging past Chris and swiping at Krauser, his blade catching flesh and slicing open Krauser’s chest. Krauser flipped away, and threw down another flash bang, the world going too bright again, Leon and Chris flinching away to shield their eyes.

“Next one,” Chris said once they could see again, taking Leon’s hand. “You’re doing so good, baby, keep going.” The pet name slipped out without permission, but Leon didn’t falter, letting Chris pull him along, heading north, heading for a tall tower that had a crumbled room atop it. There were those muffled footsteps ahead and Leon was suddenly pulling on Chris’s arm, looking up at a broken room to their left. “What the—”

Krauser stood tall above them, arms crossed over his chest. “What is it you fight for, Redfield?” he asked, sounding almost curious. “Is it your wrecked prize? The thrill of war? The satisfaction of moral fulfillment?”

“I fight to make the world a little safer,” Chris declared savagely, squeezing Leon’s clammy palm as he clenching the .45 with the other. “I fight to make sure fuckers like you can’t take anymore innocent lives in the name of some demented progress! And I fight to make sure Leon never has to be afraid ever again!”

Krauser laughed at him. “People like Leon Kennedy will—”

“Leon _S._ Kennedy.”

_“People like this slut will always be afraid because they’re weak.”_

Chris brought up the .45 and shot at Krauser’s stupid face, the bullets going low and slamming into his chest instead, Krauser stumbling back from the power of the slugs that hit his heart. Chris yanked Leon along, not wanting Leon to lose his focus, those red eyes starting to look almost glassy with whatever was torturing Leon in his thoughts. They reached another staircase that winded up into the tower, the cold worsening in the tight corners with the stone surrounding. “You’re okay, you’re okay,” Chris told Leon in an endless rush of sound, terrified that more and more of Leon was being eaten away by the Plaga. “Stay with me, Leon, it’s gonna be—”

“Make the world a little safer,” Leon said monotonously as they climbed the stairs. “That’s the last thing I said to you before you left.”

Chris’s thoughts stumbled as he realized Leon was right. “Your words kept me going,” he told Leon, unable to cover up or defend when he was run so ragged by what was happening and the way Leon was falling ever more silent. God, those really had been Leon’s last words to him. How could Chris have forgotten the birthplace of his reason to survive? “They were all I had of you.” Matilda meant little when Leon wasn’t the one holding it. Leon’s words had made him brave enough to charge into the darkness. 

Leon squeezed his hand as they broke into the open air, the top of the tower giving them the view of the wreckage of the maze beneath. “I’m glad you remembered me,” he said softly. As if Chris could forget Leon S. Kennedy. “There.”

Chris looked and saw Leon was pointing at a shining piece of gold atop the wooden ledge that framed the tower. He nodded his thanks to Leon and let go of that trembling hand to grab the insignia. There was a clatter from above and Leon and Chris both looked up to the wall that framed the top of the tower to see Krauser standing above them. Leon pulled on a brave face and stepped forward, saying, “Two down, one more to go, Krauser.”

Krauser smirked, his chest completely bare as he threw his gun aside. “We’ll see about that.” He lifted his arm into the air, Leon and Chris both watching in horror as the man began to growl and then scream as his left arm was torn apart and distorted and twisted into a fleshy scythe that arched high into the sky, his entire limb becoming a weapon, yet his mind remaining intact. The limb was flesh and bone and infection, a testament to Wesker’s work and whatever end Krauser had sought from Wesker coming to life. “Witness the power!” Krauser roared as he held his ruined flesh in the air, proud of what he’d become.

Beside him, Leon shook his head. “What have you done to yourself, Krauser?” He asked. “How could you let him do this to you? How could you fall so far? Don’t you know I would have stood by you? I would have stayed with you! I would have fought for you and brought you back, I would have pulled whatever strings it took to get you into the fight! How could you do this to yourself? H-how could you do this?”

Leon suddenly brought Rot up, his expression agonized as he shouted. “I would have given everything for you!” The ache in Leon’s words broke Chris’s heart. “I would have stayed at your side forever! I would have died for you! But it wasn’t enough, it wasn’t enough, it’s never fucking enough!” 

Tears tracked down Leon’s face. He sobbed, “Why wasn’t I enough for you, Chris?!” and Chris suddenly couldn’t breathe.

Silence permeated them. Krauser laughed again. “You’re some special kind of fucked up, Kennedy.”

Leon pulled the trigger, hitting Krauser dead in the throat, the man dropping back to their level but coming down swinging, launching himself across the ground to scoop Leon up by the neck with his good arm, lifting Leon off his feet and into the air like Leon weighed nothing, and Leon—

Went limp, went dead, didn’t try to fight, his red eyes far away from here and empty, not struggling in the grip and letting himself be asphyxiated like he’d finally given up. But there was something else in Leon, a squirm beneath his flesh— Plaga, oh god, the Plaga was growing too strong, Leon couldn’t fight back as he was almost overcome—

Chris dug in his boots and slammed into Krauser with his shoulder, knocking the man down and Leon being released. Krauser grunted as he went down and Chris raised the .45, firing every bullet he had into Krauser’s chest, something writhing beneath the skin there as well. The gun clicked empty and Krauser was bleeding, he could be killed, he wasn’t even full monster meaning he wasn’t fully bulletproof. Chris had a chance, even as Leon laid on his back, staring blankly into the night sky, his body twitching as something crawled to life beneath his flesh. 

Chris ran for Leon, snatching the knife from the sheath at Leon’s chest, rolling across the ground as Krauser swung at him with the ugly arm. Chris scrambled away, getting distance between their fight and Leon, and fell into a defensive position, knife up, breathing hard. 

“You’re still protecting him,” Krauser said as he stared Chris down like he thought he was better than him. “He’s dead weight. The Plaga in him will tear it all away. Your precious little agent will be gone for good.”

“As long as a small part of him remains, I’m not giving up!” Chris spun the knife in his grip, barring his teeth. “Come and get it, Krauser. Why don’t you pick on someone your own size?”

Krauser slammed his arm down, Chris dropping to the side and stabbing the blade into the diseased flesh, gauging weak points. He still had the shotgun, still had a way to get something long range in, and Matilda. Krauser was a grunt just like him, and even that infected arm wasn’t the worst Chris had faced. He was going to kill this man. 

“He’s useless!” Krauser shouted as he lashed out again. “You’re beating a dead horse, Redfield! I used to admire you for leaving Leon behind— now I know you’re just as useless as him!”

Krauser’s arm swung wide and broke through the wall behind Chris, rubble raining down. Chris shielded his head with his arms, ducked out of the way and yanked out the shotgun, spraying Krauser with shrapnel. The man shouted and went down on a knee, but brought the sharp bone of the arm up and Chris’s outer thigh was sliced, blood staining his torn pants. 

“Wesker wanted me to leave you be,” Krauser snarled as he stood. “Wants you all for himself. But you’re such a fucking pain in my ass that I think I’ll break Wesker’s rules for once! Let Kennedy watch you die before I kill him again! Push his face into your corpse and let him taste you one last time before I put him down for good!”

Chris nearly stumbled at the words, firing twice more into Krauser’s chest before he was forced to duck away, the adrenaline making Krauser’s moves sharper and with deadlier intent. No one was more powerful than a dying man, and Chris realized he had one shell left for the shotgun and only four in Matilda. The knife was no good with the range of Krauser’s arm, he would—

Chris dropped to the ground again and somersaulted beneath the swipe, firing his last shell into the back of Krauser’s head, hating how his skull retained its shape. Any normal human would have been decimated by the spray— Krauser was perfectly fine. The arm spun around and Chris was suddenly thrown into the only still-standing wall, biting his tongue and tasting iron as he hit hard and dropped to the ground. He brought out Matilda and fired wildly as Krauser advanced, the bullets not phasing him as they all missed the throbbing pulse that was his weak point. His heart was red and pulsing, Chris knew Krauser wasn’t going to last much longer, but if Chris—

A sharp knee slammed into his chest and Chris choked on his lungs, Krauser’s weight crushing him into the ground. Above him, the man smiled like he devil, blood dripping from his lips onto Chris’s face. 

“I’ll watch the light fade from his eyes again,” Krauser said. “And this time, I won’t bring him back! I’ll fuck his corpse and enjoy every second as he gets colder and colder! I’ve done it before, I’ll do it again, crush his throat as I fuck his dying body! I’ll make that bitch mine even in death and there’s nothing you can do about it!”

“You fucking monster,” Chris choked out as he struggled in vain against the knee in his chest. The knife was out of reach, wedged beneath his body, Chris had no bullets left and no gun in his hand, he couldn’t get free. “You fucking monster!” he shouted again. Oh god, oh god, _Krauser has really killed Leon._ “How could you hurt him?!”  
“There’s something special about Leon Kennedy,” Krauser growled. “Something that makes you want to _destroy_ him. Like those perfect marble statues in museums. Makes you want to mark him up and break him into nothing. Makes you want to _kill._ ”

Krauser grinned wider and dug the knee in deeper, Chris’s air robbed from his lungs as his chest cavity was forced shut. “You think you love him, don’t you? Love him enough to protect him. Well I love him too.” He bent low, his breath hot on Chris’s cheek as he whispered into Chris’s ear. “I’m gonna kill you,” Krauser bit out, slow and acidic. “And I’m gonna fuck him against your corpse and let him die with you because that’s the way I love him.”

Hands suddenly appeared around Krauser’s neck, forcing him back and off Chris’s chest, Leon staggering behind Krauser as he saved Chris and let himself be knocked away by the brunt shove of Krauser’s arm. Leon cried out in ragged pain, one of the first times Chris has actually heard him make a noise when hurt, but Chris could barely even register it.

He—

He was going to kill Krauser.

_“I’ll fuck his corpse and enjoy every second as he gets colder and colder._

_I’ll make that bitch mine even in death.”_

Chris launched himself at Krauser, drawing the blade and sinking it into Krauser’s diseased heart with a cry of fury, the monster looking up in shock as his heart was torn asunder and he dropped back with Chris’s weight bringing him down. Chris brought up the knife again and slammed it home, then again and again and again, stabbing the blade into Krauser’s dying heart over and over as he roared, blood spraying in the air as Chris screamed his rage, screamed his pain, screamed his hatred for this human waste and everything that had been done to Leon. 

The knife went in again and again and Krauser stopped moving and stopped fighting, going dead beneath Chris, but Chris couldn’t stop. The emptiness in Leon’s eyes haunted him. Krauser _had killed Leon._ Over and over, the blade slipped into Krauser’s body and more blood came out, covering Chris’s face and neck and chest, a bath of barbaric madness to finally quell the agony Chris had wrestled with since leaving behind Leon S. Kennedy six years ago and condemning him to a life of monsters. 

And then hands were at his chest, pulling him away, and a warm mouth was sliding against his own, Leon kissing Chris as he took the blade from Chris’s hand and tossed it aside, Krauser’s blood tainting the purity of Leon’s mouth. 

Chris sunk into the kiss regardless, gasping a ragged noise into Leon and curling into him, taking the man’s face in his bloodstained hands and deepening the kiss, pressing his tongue deeper, finding every moment of peace he’d needed for the past six years in the hungry touch of their lips. Chris leaned in and Leon fell back, letting Chris crawl atop him as their mouths met and tongues danced, Leon moaning wantonly and arching his spine for their bodies to press together. Chris pinned Leon with his hands on the man’s shoulders and slotted their legs and hips, grinding down, relishing how he could feel Leon’s hard cock past the confines of their clothes. He thrust a little sharper and Leon whimpered into him, a beautiful, desperate sound that had the blood singing in Chris’s veins.

Then Leon coughed and Chris tasted blood that wasn’t Krauser’s. 

“Fuck,” Leon rasped, head dropping back to the sandstone, panting and shaking. “H-head hurts.”

“You were gone,” Chris said shakily. “The pills, Luis’s pills.”

“They’re for Ashley.”

“You can’t leave me, Leon.”

Leon breathed slowly for a moment, red eyes shut before he nodded. “Side pocket.” Leon’s hands went down first, rummaging through the pocket and bringing out two of the pills. Chris was about to speak when Leon suddenly shoved the pills into Chris’s mouth, his arm going around Chris’s neck to bring him down for another kiss. The pills were pushed around between them, Leon lifting his hips into Chris again before he let the pills drop back into his mouth and Chris felt him swallow. The relief Chris felt was palpable and he wrapped his own arms around Leon, pulling away from the kiss to press their foreheads together and share breath. “God, I’ve missed how you taste,” Leon gasped.

“You’re gonna be okay,” Chris swore. “I promise I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Leon only nodded and kissed the side of Chris’s bloody face. “I love you.” He nodded again. “We can do this.”

“I love you too,” Chris said. “You’re gonna be okay.”

Leon breathed shakily and his red eyes slowly faded into a gorgeous blue that reminded Chris of an endless sky. “I trust you.”

Chris squeezed his own eyes shut as the gaping hole in his chest that had existed there for six years finally shut with Leon’s embrace. “On you, Leon.”

“On me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Go check out this amazing art for this chap by** [Kao](https://twitter.com/rnachine/status/1133746059866456071) **once you've finished the fic**


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG i've been writing another thing for the chreon secret solstice and it's *so much fun* oml and hey!!!! only one chap left!!!!! AH!!!!!!
> 
> (that being said, this one's gonna hurt)

Leon sat on the cold, dirty floor for a moment longer as Chris searched Krauser’s bloodied, ruined corpse for the final piece they would need to get out of this arena of death. Leon was shaking, of course he was fucking shaking, his mind had just been bogarted by the Plaga to the point where he’d been immobile and defenseless to Krauser’s attacks, Leon was was useless and weak to the man as he’d been two years ago, and yet—

Leon couldn’t tear his eyes away from Chris. The man’s back was to him, muscles working beneath the tight cloth of his BSAA uniform, and even with the horror of the fight settling slowly and the knowledge that Chris knew what had been done to Leon, Leon _wanted._ The kiss hadn’t been enough, his lips still tingling from the frantic slide of their mouths being the real reason for the tremor in Leon’s hands. Fuck the Plaga, fuck Krauser, fuck Saddler, fuck everything else, Leon had kissed Chris and Chris had _kissed him back._ God, why— why hadn’t Leon done that _sooner_?

He grinned to himself, a hand coming up to brush his fingertips across the swell of his lower lip where Chris’s tongue had darted out and stolen Leon’s breath. He felt young again, felt like the dumb rookie cop back in Raccoon City who had felt like he could fall in love for the first time in his life. And here Leon was again, in another hell amongst so many, already in love but suddenly being given—

Well, not hope. Leon knew that there wasn’t hope. Just because the pills had staved off the worst of the Plaga’s control of him didn’t mean he was saved, it was a temporary fix and, even from there—

“Found it,” Chris suddenly said, the rumble of his voice sending electricity through Leon’s veins. Maybe it was the adrenaline or the kiss, maybe it didn’t matter, because Leon was still hard between his legs and his brain was a sluggish mess from the Plaga, he wasn’t having a good time with controlling his body at the moment and he still wanted Chris so badly that it hurt. Chris stood and turned to face Leon, a tired expression of triumph on his face as he held out the serpent insignia for Leon to see. It was bloodied at the edges, Krauser’s blood, and jesus fucking christ, Leon, don’t think about Chris stabbing the shit out of Krauser, that’ll only make the erection _worse._

Chris strode towards Leon, offering a hand with more of Krauser’s blood— Chris was covered in it, head to waist to thighs, he’d gone fucking psycho on Krauser and Leon had never been more in love— that Leon took, letting Chris hoist him to his feet and then squeezing the hand, not letting go. They stood together, chest to chest, staring into one another and searching. Leon’s breath caught in his throat from the intensity of Chris’s gaze. 

Krauser was dead and Chris had killed him. Leon was dying but at least he had Chris. Leon leaned in and brushed their lips, a thrill racing through him at the soft noise Chris made at the touch. Leon wondered how he could have gone six years without this man. All of his rage and grudges felt petty in the face of the comfort Chris exuded into Leon without a thought. How could Leon have been so cruel when Chris had first arrived? Especially now that Leon knew Chris had been toyed with just as carelessly as Leon. They were both victims of lies and they were both in this war with no end in sight. Fuck the bad blood, Leon was going to kiss the man until the moment he died this dawning morning. 

“We should go,” Chris murmured against Leon’s lips. “Can you walk?”

Leon nodded against him. “Head isn’t so bad anymore,” he told the other man, knowing his wellbeing was important for both their safety. “Definitely not about to go full-Ganado on your anytime soon.”

“And Krauser?” 

For once, the name didn’t fill Leon with dread. He grinned and pulled back to cast his eyes to the floor, to Krauser’s mangled corpse where Chris had left seventeen stab wounds in the man’s diseased flesh. “Good fucking riddance,” he said, not keeping the venom from his voice. “I— thank you.” He smiled shakily and looked to Chris again, leaning in to press their foreheads together, selfishly taking more comfort for the sake of his sanity. “He’s gone,” Leon said, absolute joy strangling his words. “Thank you.”

“What he did to you—”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It does, Leon.”

The ache in Chris’s words tore at Leon’s chest and he couldn’t keep from leaning in for another chaste kiss, wishing he could take the time to sit down and tell Chris _everything_ to prove Leon really was okay, but they just didn’t have the time. Chris was still staring into him with such blatant concern. “He said he killed you,” Chris whispered between them. “Leon, did you— how?”

“Not now.” He wished he could tell Chris but Ashley still needed them. “Let’s get off this godforsaken island first.” It was an effort to talk about himself like he was going to survive this, but he wasn’t about to purposefully hurt Chris after what the man had done for him. “We need to get Ashley and finish this.”

“And she’s Ashley, right?”

Leon nodded, genuinely relieved to find his memories intact. He was in Spain and he was looking for Ashley Graham. Raccoon City was rubble and Sherry was safe, stateside. “I’m in one piece again,” he promised. “You can count on me.”

Chris pulled back and nodded, expression simultaneously relieved and grim as he cocked the .45 and jerked his head to the exit, the huge gates Krauser had taunted them with before. “On you, Leon.”

That same thrill coursed through Leon at the words and he grinned boyishly, taking a step back and heading for the ladder that brought them down from the broken tower. While this place had once filled Leon with sickening horror, it was now just crumbled ruins that he thought should be protected by a historical society. Krauser was dead and gone and he’d never get his hands on Leon ever again. Leon could die happily knowing this. 

They got to the gate. Leon pushed in the two insignias and Chris slid in the final. The gate pulled back to reveal industrial strength doors, Chris letting out a groan of distaste at the sight. “I honestly miss the castle,” Chris said, which Leon couldn’t help but agree with. At least the castle had been nice to look at and at least Salazar had been a complete idiot. This was actually fucking dangerous. Leon cut his eyes to Chris to check he was ready before pushing open the doors and stepping through into a small trench dug in the ground, thunder clapping ominously overhead as Leon’s communicator shrieked. “Not this asshole,” Chris huffed. “I’m getting tired of this.”

“We’re almost done,” Leon reassured the man, having the feeling that the end was in sight. He pulled out the communicator and held it to his ear, watching Chris the whole time. Saddler’s voice wasn’t even able to put a damper on Leon’s emotions right now because Chris had killed Krauser and kissed Leon back. Nothing could ruin this for him. 

_“So it seems your guard dog took out Krauser’s throat,”_ Saddler almost cooed over the device. _“How shall I return my appreciation?”_

That— huh?  
“What do you mean by that?” Leon demanded. “I thought he was with you.”

Saddler chortled. _“What are you talking about? Did you really think I would trust an American? To tell you the truth, I was contemplating how to get rid of him. But thanks to you and your precious BSAA ‘friend,’ that’s no longer necessary.”_

“You were just using him right from the start,” Leon accused sharply. He didn’t sympathize with Krauser, not in the slightest, but he hated the idea of anyone being used. It hit too close to home for him.

 _“I must hand it to you,”_ Saddler drawled. _“You’ve demonstrated quite a bit of promise by killing Krauser. When your assimilation with Las Plagas is complete, I’ll have you serve as my guard.”_

Chris suddenly stepped forward, eyes sharp and deadly like they’d been back with Krauser, and— jesus, Leon was being threatened with complete usurp of control of his body, and yet he was smiling at the protective flash in Chris. Some things never did change. “Unfortunately, I’m going to have to deny your generous offer,” Leon said. “I have prior engagements.”

Saddler chuckled. _“Enjoy your smart mouthing while you can.”_

The transmission ended and Chris looked like he wanted to snatch the device from Leon and stomp it into the ground. “He’s not touching you,” Chris spat. “No one is.”

“Not even you?” Leon asked with audible disappointment, smirking when Chris’s expression twitched. He wondered if Chris had forgotten just how much of a flirt Leon could be. Leon walked past Chris with an air of confidence. Krauser was dead and gone and Saddler was a small-time comic book villain that Leon could take down with his eyes closed. He clapped Chris’s shoulder, gave Chris another one of his boyish smiles, and moved up, rounding a bend in the trench to see—

An army, an actual fucking army of militia men, all of them heavily armed with rocket launchers and automatic weapons and just a fucking nightmare to deal with. Leon slammed into a wall of cover that as just a glorified strip of sheet metal, Chris doing the same on the other side of the trench. They met eyes, Leon’s confidence seeming foolish now in the face of being overwhelmingly outnumbered. For a moment, he was almost afraid. Then there was the loud thrum of a rotor and Leon’s hair was thrown about as a helicopter hovered overhead, a spotlight shining on Leon and Chris. His communicator beeped again, and Leon cued in the channel, letting his relief be audible to the pilot when he said, “Damn— about time you showed up.”

 _“Sorry,”_ the pilot said without a lick of genuine apology. _“Bad traffic.”_

Definitely one of STRATCOM’s, Leon couldn’t ask for better backup. STRATCOM’s pilots were ace flyers in any vehicle, the cream of the crop. He watched the copter turn and face the army in front of them, the Fleur-de-lis beneath an eagle emblazoned the side of the craft and filling Leon with hope. _“I’ll cover you,”_ the pilot said, voice flat and unconcerned. Definitely a man who had survived his fair share of fights. Leon grinned across the trench at Chris and gave him a thumbs up as the copter swept in and began to pepper the Ganados with artillery fire.

“One of yours?” Chris asked, returning the smile. “Should’ve known STRAT wouldn’t abandon their best completely.” There was a crash from the area in front and then a sudden shockwave knocking Chris and Leon back, both of them stumbling and—

“Did he blow up a fucking oil tanker?” Chris demanded, eyes wide. “What kind of crazy pilots do you guys employ?!”

“Only the best— on me, Redfield!” Leon declared with a sharp show of his teeth, reloading Rot and darting into the fray. He pressed his finger to the comms, looking up at the copter with a sense of pride. “Now that’s what I call backup.”

 _“My name’s Mike,”_ the pilot told Leon, a Boston accent washing over Leon’s ears and comforting him with the familiarity of an American voice that wasn’t an enemy. _“If you’re looking for firepower, you’ve come to the right place.”_

“Let’s kick their asses, Mike,” Leon said as he ran forward, bringing up Rot and slamming a slug into the spine of a Ganados that had survived the explosion. “And let’s bring Ashley Graham home.”

 _“BSAA is gonna owe us big time for saving their precious Redfield’s skin,”_ Mike said before the ‘copter dropped away to look for its next target. Leon and Chris both advanced with the ‘copter, side by side and bringing up their sights to pick out the stragglers. The area before them was a base comprised of air-raid shelters and haphazardly-crafted towers and rooms, all built from sheet metal and maze-like in organization. There was a large wall at the other end of the area with an industrial-strength craft door, a lever to the left of it to pull. _“Move up, move up!”_ Mike shouted into the mic. _“I’ll cover you, get to the next area!”_

“We’re moving up!” Leon shouted to Chris as he shot down another Ganado, relishing the sound the monster made as it died. Chris’s MP5 echoed a barrage of bullets to match Leon’s even, sharp shots. There was another explosion, Mike taking out heavy-fire from the submachine guns that were itching to turn Leon and Chris into Swiss cheese. “If we stay ahead of them, Mike can take ‘em out behind us!”

“On you!” Chris shouted, following Leon as they both ran forward and shot down anything that stood in their way, Mike keeping their asses safe with an endless barrage of artillery fire. There was nothing better than having a friendly in the air. Mike tore through the ranks as Chris darted to the lever and pulled it down, the red light turning green as the door swung up. Chris grabbed Leon by the arm and yanked him into the next area that was much of the same, another industrial door at the other end with a lever just above, more Ganados aiming their sights on them, and—

Leon’s senses suddenly whited out as actual electricity coursed through his limbs, his muscles seizing and teeth aching in his skull as the cattle prod slammed into his spine and rendered him immobile from the shock. He’d been tased before, it was necessary for anyone looking to become a cop, but _this_ —

Leon dropped to his knees, an inhuman noise breaking past his lips as he fell away from the stun rod and gasped for breath, his seizing lungs having shoved all air from his body. There was a shout and a gunshot, five of them really, more than necessary, and then Mike’s voice in his ear: _“That looked nasty! On your feet, Kennedy!”_

“On your feet, Kennedy,” Chris unwittingly echoed, looping an arm underneath Leon’s waist to haul him to his feet as the tremors died as quickly as they’d come. Leon shuddered and leaned into Chris for a split second before pushing himself away and wobbling to his feet, looking back to see the Ganado that had shocked him laying dead on the ground with five new holes in its face. 

Leon raised a brow at Chris, trying to prove he was fine as he asked, “A little bit of overkill?”

“Take cover!”

Chris grabbed Leon again and slammed him behind a wall of metal, Mike’s machine fire slamming into the ground they’d once been standing on, Ganados screaming in pain and fury as they were decimated. When the cover fire died away, Leon and Chris dropped out from behind their shelter and ran for the lever again, Chris spraying his MP5 liberally while Leon went low and slid beneath the sights of the Ganados that were focused on Chris. Leon climbed a ladder to a second level, shooting a crossbow-wielding Ganado in the back of the neck, and running past the corpse to the next lever as thunder shook the very foundations of the entire island. Leon pulled the lever and red became green, the door below swinging up. 

“Leon!” Chris shouted from below. Leon looked over the ledge of the walkway that had led to the lever just in time to see Chris take a Ganado by the throat and body slam the fucker’s head into the floor, the skull bursting apart. Leon was stunned by the sheer strength and his throat was definitely dry. “Get down here!”

Leon vaulted over the ledge and landed gracefully beside Chris on the ground, eyeing the corpse of Chris’s ability with more than a little desire wrestling for attention in his chest. “Jesus, that was hot,” he said.

As Chris suddenly began to sputter, Mike laughed loudly over comms. _“Stop ogling and get moving! We’re not getting paid for you to flirt with the walking wall of muscle!”_ Leon grinned at Mike’s quip that Chris couldn’t hear before heading for the door that had lifted out of their way and pushing through the swinging doors beyond. He and Chris burst into the next area together, a carved, sandstone cave that had stairs etched into the floor leading up into the open air again. Leon went up the steps first, but reeled back when he faced down at least twenty Ganados standing in front of pillars that overlooked a cliff face, all of them scowling and snapping and raising their sights to Leon. Chris was just behind him and an arm went around Leon’s waist, both of them falling out of the line of fire and behind a pillar of stone, Chris collapsing to the ground and pulling Leon down on top of him. 

“We can’t get past this!” Chris said, sounding panicked. “We don’t have the bullets!”

 _“Don’t kid yourselves,”_ Mike chimed in over the comms. _“Mikey Mike and the Funky Bunch here to save the day. Brace yourselves, boys!”_

Air and rubble was blown past their feet as the helicopter hovered into view, the Ganados all turning away from where Leon and Chris were sheltered to face their impending demise. Mike laid down the fire and the room burst into chaos, bullets flying through the air and imbedding themselves in either bodies or the wall, the wet noises of flesh being shredded by heavy fire filling Leon with a sense of peace. Chris held him flush to his chest and Leon let himself sink into the warmth for a split second as bullets rained around them, the cacophony meshing with the rise and fall of Chris’s lungs against Leon’s back, that arm tightening around his waist, the moment somehow intimate even when surrounded by death. Leon grinned at how fucked up he was, knowing Chris wouldn’t have him any other way.

The bullets ceased and there was a crash as a pillar collapsed and crushed a Ganado into a pulp. Leon rolled out from the cover and jogged forward, standing in front of the helicopter, barely making out Mike’s visage through the glass. “Thanks,” he told Mike through comms. “When we get out of here, drinks are on me.”

 _“Hell yeah!”_ Mike crowed over the mic. _“Hey, I know a good bar! Let’s see if the BSAA really is worth their spit!”_

Chris suddenly yanked the rifle from Leon’s back, nearly knocking Leon to the ground with the force he used. Leon whirled around, ready to lay into the man when he saw Chris line the rifle up and send a bullet down into the ruins to their left, the shot slugging into a Ganado that was standing atop a castle ramp way beside Saddler, the head exploding and the Ganado dropping to the floor, a rocket launcher clattering uselessly to the ground, a launcher that had once been aimed at Mike’s ‘copter.

Relief _bled_ through Leon so acutely that he almost felt dizzy.

 _“Jesus!”_ Mike shouted through the comms. _“I owe you one!”_

“Get out of here, Mike!” Leon ordered sharply, looking to the man in the copter. “Get to a safe distance and wait for me to radio you again!” If Saddler had anti-air missiles at his disposal, Leon didn’t want Mike anywhere near the asshole. “We’ll get Ashley and call you in.”

 _“Roger that,”_ Mike said. _“Keep your heads down, agents! Let’s get our girl home.”_

The helicopter dropped away and Leon looked back to Saddler to see the man scowl and walk out of sight, hands crossed behind his back, undeniably angry at being thwarted. Leon turned on his heel and grabbed Chris by the jaw, going up on his toes to kiss the man solidly. “You’re fucking amazing,” he breathed. “Got sharp eyes, too.” Mike would be dead if Chris hadn’t been here. “He’s right— I owe you.”

“Let’s just get the fuck out of here,” Chris replied, smiling. “You said you’re gonna treat him to drinks— planning on surviving, Leon?”

Leon’s heart fluttered in his chest. “I wanna try,” he said, even as the hopelessness sunk into his bones. But god dammit, he couldn’t give up now. “Let’s get moving.”  
“On you,” Chris whispered, swooping down to kiss Leon one last time before they pulled apart and headed for where Saddler had gone to hide his ugly head. Leon’s communicator sounded again, and he flicked the channel, expecting Mike but scowling when he got Saddler.

 _“All of that,”_ Saddler mourned. _“In an attempt to swat a bothersome fly.”_

“What did you say?” Leon demanded sharply. “Insects’ life doesn’t compare to human lives!” This sick fuck implying that Mike’s life was nothing more than a nuisance, something to be tossed aside into the garbage. “You’re just pissed because your little slave failed to make the shot.”

 _“My slaves can do little without the firm guiding hand of their lord, but I will surely bring you and your precious BSAA dog to your knees,”_ Saddler snarled. _“When you’ve acquired this power, you will understand.”_

That fucking settled it. “Guess it’s another good reason to get this parasite out of my body.” He didn’t miss the way Chris’s eyes lit up, the understand washing over the other man’s face, Chris seeing the moment that Leon finally decided to dig his boots in and stand firm out of pure spite. Maybe he wouldn’t live, but he wasn’t giving in to the Plaga, not when Saddler thought Leon was already his. 

Saddler laughed at him. _“I wish you luck.”_

“Luck never did shit for me,” Leon snapped. “Chris and I are taking you down.” He ended the transmission before Saddler could and nodded sharply to Chris. “Let’s go. This fucker has had his last laugh one too many times.”

Chris hoisted the MP5 into the air and sent Leon a feral smile. “On you, Agent Kennedy.”

Leon grinned back. “On me.”

Chris followed Leon down into the fortress that was framing the back end of the island, the modern steel of the militia and scientific faculty dissonant with the old stone and fortitude of the stronghold. Leon pushed through the iron doors, his eyes alert even with half his attention focused on Chris’s footsteps behind him. They crept silently as they could into the fortress, the ground soft hand beneath their feet and muting their steps. Leon came upon a ladder and traded a look with Chris before he jumped down first, sweeping his sights and finding nothing, then wrapping his knuckles on the metal ladder for Chris to join him. The thump of the man landing solidly behind him made him inexplicably giddy. He shoved down the emotion and went carefully into the next room and—

The whisper of cloth followed him in.

“Ada,” Chris said before Leon could turn around and see the lady in red. Leon tensed, wondering how much she knew at this point, how much Krauser had told her, how much she had gathered herself as the intelligent woman she was. Leon spun slowly to face her, meeting gazes with Ada and finding her unreadable as always. Even without the damn sunglasses, she was a blank wall to him at the best of times. And even if he did manage to gleam something, he could never trust it.

“You’re looking better,” she said softly, ignoring Chris for Leon, eyes dragging up and down Leon’s body. “I have to say, I was expecting you to be much worse along.”

“Took the pills,” Leon explained tersely. Chris was behind Ada and watching her with his hand hovering above the trigger of the MP5, meaning Leon was safe to let his guard down. “Seemed to do the trick.”

She nodded thoughtfully. “And Krauser?”

 _“Dead,”_ Chris spat hatefully. “Now are you just gonna keep pretending I’m not here or have we graduated high school?”

Ada finally looked at Chris. Her lips lifted into that teasing smirk and she eyed the gun in Chris’s hand with a finely arched brow. “Are you gonna keep acting like you have to shoot me or are we done seeing monsters in the shadows?”

“Pretty sure you’ve never given me a reason to not be anything but cautious around you.”

“Fair enough,” Ada simpered. “But I don’t think Leon will take very kindly to you putting a bullet in me.” She turned back to Leon, that placid smile still hanging off her features like a mask separated an inch from the skin. “Leon,” she said softly, running her tongue over his name in a way that made him antsy. “Are you okay?”

The question was so genuine that Leon immediately felt badly for being so suspicious. Leon knew he didn’t know Ada at all, but he’d seen moments of her true self back in Raccoon City, like the frustration she felt with the Tyrant never giving up and the moment she slipped from his grip into the facility below. Leon had a hard time reading Ada, but when she was talking about anything that didn’t involve work, she was an open book to him. The only problem was that Ada rarely talked about anything but work. 

“I’m fine,” he said truthfully. “Chris got me out of there.”

Ada shook her head. “You can’t rely on Chris forever.”

“He doesn’t need me,” Chris interrupted. “He can handle himself. I just happened to be there. He doesn’t need my help.”

Leon looked to where Chris was still vigilantly watching Ada and felt himself fall in love a little more. Nothing felt better than Chris being confident in Leon’s abilities, nothing felt better than knowing Chris had faith in him. Even though Leon wasn’t sure he’d agree in this scenario— Krauser and the overwhelming Plaga combined, Leon wouldn’t have made it out alive— Chris’s trust in him made Leon feel like he could move mountains.

“Regardless,” Ada said, casting a glance back to Chris. “We have to get that parasite out of your body.”

Like that was possible. “Yeah,” was all Leon said. “But before that, we gotta save Ashley.”

“Do you know how to help him?” Chris asked, suddenly a lot more earnest with Ada, that small spark of hope addictive to men like Chris. He lowered his gun finally and strode towards the smaller woman, eyes alight. “What is there? Is there something that can cure him? Really? You said you knew of a way.”

From there, Leon saw the oddest thing he’d ever seen. Ada and Chris stood in front of one another and something passed between their gazes, a gentle understanding, a shared kindred spirit that Leon couldn’t name because he didn’t know where they were finding this common ground to finally work together. Both of their expressions softened as they held a silent conversation Leon was only witness too. And then Ada smiled and that— that was a real smile. And it was a very sad one. 

“I think I know something,” she told Chris, finally addressing him and only him. Leon felt like he was in the Twilight Zone. “I don’t know exactly what it takes to get it to function and I don’t know the success rate, but it’s looking to be our most viable option for ridding Leon of the Plaga.”

“It’s all we’ve got, right?” Chris nodded firmly. “I’m counting on you, Ada. I owe you one.”

She raised her brow again, sincerity dying for the mask she wore to fall into place. “A favor from the BSAA? Consider my interest piqued.” She looked between them both and smiled enigmatically again. “I’d tell you two to watch each other’s backs, but I have a feeling I don’t need to worry. Congratulations on finally getting it together. Let’s hope your honeymoon phase lasts longer than a night.” With that, Ada left them, turning to a door on the other side of the room and stepping out without another word.

Chris and Leon traded another look. Chris grimaced, then shrugged. Leon wished he could ask what exactly he and Ada had finally seemed to agree on. “Let’s get moving,” Chris said, looking like he didn’t want Leon to ask. “If she’s handling your cure, then we should prioritize Ashley and let her take care of that.”

“So you’re trusting her?” Leon asked, just so confused by the sudden change. “Is it out of necessity or something else?”

“Ada Wong isn’t about to let you die,” Chris said simply. “Let’s go.”

Leon wasn’t satisfied, but he let Chris leave it at that and they left the way Ada had gone, stepping into a huge hall full of— cells, prison cells, this wasn’t a fortress, it was a fucking prison. There was a cold chill to the air with moonlight streaming down from the ruined ceiling above, the hall stretching three stories high with iron bars on all sides. Leon couldn’t imagine being sent into the archaic Alcatraz and left to die. He wondered if this prison had functioned for the condemn at the same time the Plaga had been discovered and if that meant the prisons had been—

There was a trembling inhale and exhale, a Regenerator here to prove Leon’s point. He wondered if the prisoners had served as vessels for inhuman experimentation. A grim end that he wasn’t sure befitted even the most heinous of criminals depending on the crime. Chris wordlessly handed Leon the rifle that had saved Mike’s life as the Regenerator stumbled into view, that warbled breathing making the hair on Leon’s arms stand. He aimed down the sights and grimaced at the squirming Plaga beneath the flesh, remembering how it had felt to have his own Plaga writhing around his bones. A sensation he wouldn’t forget anytime soon.

Leon brought down the Regenerator with five clean shots, three to the front, one to the knee, and the last shot into the Plaga that was in the back of the creature. They moved on, keeping quiet, leaving the cells behind and and going into a courtyard area that was likely recreational. There was a resounding shout, the Castilian that made Leon wish he could just call an airstrike into this godforsaken place, and beside him, Chris readied himself for another fight. “It’s like these fuckers want to die,” Chris said with a grin that spoke mostly of adrenaline and forced composure. They were both getting tired.

It wasn’t getting any easier, dredging through fight after fight, functioning on their will to survive and complete the mission alone. Leon hadn’t eaten in what was likely a day and a half and he knew Chris hadn’t slept in over twenty four hours. They couldn’t go on forever and they both knew it, falling into a steady fire and reload and keeping their backs together the whole way through, not able to risk fighting this many Ganados alone. The recoil of his gun was starting to feel shaky in Leon’s grip. He knew he wasn’t going to last like this forever. They needed off this island.

The fight ended abruptly with Chris shouting something about a door and a keycard and then dragging Leon through a once-previously locked area by the crook of Leon’s elbow. The door slammed shut behind them, abrupt quiet pervading as Chris locked the door and then rolled a head barrel in front of the doors for good measure. Leon leaned against the wall behind him and let the fight die from his veins, if only for a moment. Chris looked to him with concern. “The Plaga?”

Oddly, no. “Just tired.” Leon smiled a little. “Krauser takes a lot out of me. And we just killed, like, fifty people. Been doing this since noon yesterday.”

Chris nodded, easily seeing Leon didn’t want to talk about it. Leon pushed himself off the wall and into Chris’s space, soaking in the heat of Chris’s body for a split second and then pulling away to walk ahead. They moved down a long hall with more of that awful cold, Leon’s skin feeling clammy and tight as his muscles jumped to keep warm. They turned a corner of the long hall and saw a door. Chris let out an unhappy noise behind Leon, both of them not liking short sights. Leon stepped forward and cautiously pushed open the doors to see—

A _huge_ capsule with Ashley lifeless in the center, held in place by metal arms, visible through the glass. The structure holding her looked like something from a creep science fiction film, almost like a cryonic chamber meant for deep sleep with an extra side of fucking creepy. Ashley seemed to be sitting in some sort of chair, too, a bionic throne. There were tubes and industrial lift arms attached to the sides and a steadily glowing red light on the side of the glass, signifying the capsule was locked.

Leon ran forward, ready to shatter the fucking glass, when Saddler’s voice suddenly echoed in the room.

“You’ll soon harbor an awesome power,” Saddler said, spreading his arms while Chris snapped his MP5 back up and Leon turned to face the villain. “Yet it seems you would rather choose death. And your friend here…” The look Saddler gave Chris had Leon on edge. “He could be so much more than what he is now. The human body is so limited. But a man whose strength overcame Krauser’s has unlimited potential.”

“You’re not touching him,” Leon snapped. “We’re taking Ashley back whether you like it or not.”

Saddler sighed dramatically. “Oh, the audacity of youth.”

Saddler was suddenly moving faster than Leon could blink, a hand slamming into Leon’s chest and sending him flying, his back slamming into the capsule Ashley was in. Leon gasped in pain and hit the ground hard, the Plaga inside squirming excitedly at the stimulus. There was the spray of gunfire, but it cut off quickly, Chris running to Leon’s side and pulling him to his feet. Leon struggled to stand as the Plaga fought for its control again, and he only barely heard Chris shout, “Now, Ada!”

More gunfire. Leon looked up in time to see bullets tear into the front of Saddler, the endless shots coming from above their head, from Ada standing on a walkway. Leon slouched in Chris’s arms, letting himself have a moment of weakness as both Chris and Ada handled Saddler, Chris bringing up Matilda to fire even shots into that fucker’s ugly face while Ada tore holes into his chest. 

Both clips ran empty and Saddler was sent stumbling back, some sort of smoke pouring from the bullet holes.

“Boys!” Ada shouted from above. “Now!”

Chris grunted and then slammed his hand into the button that was beside the glass, the capsule opening and lowering Ashley to the ground. Leon pulled himself from Chris’s grip to grab the girl as she slumped forward, slowly regaining consciousness. “We need to move,” Chris said urgently. 

“She needs—” Leon looked away from Ashley and saw why Chris was suddenly so panicked. 

Saddler was stiff like a statue, a low growl coming from his mouth as he raised his head, the smoke thickening and hissing like steam. Leon watched in horror as little lumps and tumors began to move through what little of Saddler’s flesh Leon could see, the man entering what was likely a second stage of infection. Leon further wrapped himself around Ashley, shielding the girl from whatever was about to come as Chris stepped in front of Leon, gun up. But instead of the Plaga bursting to life, Saddler opened his hand and—

Every bullet that had been driven into the monster clattered to the ground, a soft rain of lead. Leon staggered at the implications. Saddler lifted his head and smiled at Chris.

“The cure is in this place— _move!_ ” Ada shouted.

“Let’s go!” Leon ordered, putting an arm around Ashley to bring her along as he yanked Chris by the back of his shirt. They fled the room, Leon hearing Ada cover their escape with her TMP and then a large explosion. God, he prayed the woman got out of there okay. Ashley let out a soft noise of confusion as she struggled to keep up with Leon’s sprint, and Chris wrestled himself from Leon’s grip to dart ahead, sights up and scanning for enemies. They ran through the last of the facility, Ashley lagging badly, the sounds of chaos just behind, panic making all of them faster than feasible even with their dwindling energy. 

“Leon,” Ashley gasped, her feet nearly dragging. “I-it hurts!”

Leon looked back and saw Ashley’s eyes glowing a dim red. 

“Up we go.”

Ashley’s hand was torn from Leon’s grip as Chris scooped the girl up in his arms, carrying her like she weighed nothing. A noise of pain left the poor thing as she looped her arms around Chris’s neck in some attempt to alleviate the strain of carrying her, and that—

God, she was so much like Sherry. The bravery, the selflessness, the perseverance all spiking well past her age and making her into someone Leon admired in the same way he admired survivors of an apocalypse that kept trying to rebuild their lives. That tenacious stubbornness to never give up— it was the most human thing Leon had ever seen and seeing it in this girl, this daughter of the President that should have expected nothing but professionalism from Leon and instead treated him and Chris like they were more than grunts. Seeing this in her made Leon hate Saddler all the more. No one her age should have to suffer like this.

Chris kept pace with Leon’s near-sprint, Leon searching desperately for whatever this cure was. He passed room after room, glancing into them and finding nothing that could be of any use, his desperation growing worse as time went by and they found nothing. Had Ada been wrong? Or had she been _lying?_ Why would she lie about this, when Leon was at his most frenzied, Ashley’s Plaga finally beginning to show the violent signs Leon’s had been demonstrating. Behind him, in Chris’s arms, Ashley let out a little choked gasp and Chris—

“Leon, do you have any more pills?”

Leon chanced a glance back and saw the blood dripping from the corner of Ashley’s mouth. She wasn’t even coughing, there was no convulsion, just the quiet rebellion of the parasite in her body. Ashley looked to Leon with her glassy, crimson eyes, pleading silently to be saved and Leon—

Kicked in a door and saw something like a physician’s examination chair, bent to fit the human body’s natural frame and a screen above the head with two little nodes above looking like some sort of laser surgical machine. A control panel beyond it, x-rays of the Plaga displayed behind. Ada hadn’t been lying. 

Leon darted to the control panel, finding a note and scanning it quickly, Luis’s handwriting sending a pang of loss through him that he would let himself deal with later. “This is it,” he said, grinning shakily, scared to feel hope as Chris carefully set Ashley down, the girl barely able to keep herself standing as Chris went back to block the door behind them. “This is the cure,” he said, holding up the note. “Painful, Luis describes it as incredibly painful and risky. If the Plaga is too far along, removing it might kill the host, but—” He read the words again and grimaced, echoing Luis. “Maybe death isn’t so bad when you think about the alternative.”

“This hunk of junk?” Ashley asked, voice shaking with agony and worry. “I-I don’t know about this, guys.”

She had a point. The whole machine looked janky and unreliable, almost cold with disuse. Leon wasn’t sure this thing had ever been operated successfully considering he had his doubts about Saddler being willing to let any successful Plaga controlled escape his clutches. He didn’t even know if it would work or if this was just some clever ruse set up to incapacitate Leon because—

“I’ll go first,” Leon said, knowing exactly how predictable he was. The agent protecting the president. He’d sample her wine and dinner before letting her touch the food, keep poison away from her lips. Leon was a damn good soldier when it came down to it. “You two operate,” he ordered to Ashley. “If I don’t make it, Ashley doesn’t get in the chair.”

“Now hold on a second,” Chris said, putting his hand up as Leon strode to the device and readied to lay down across it, grimacing at the cold steel when he grazed the examination chair with his fingertips. “I don’t think we should use a human as a testing subject, especially not you.”

“You got any better ideas?” Leon demanded as he laid down in the chair and tried not to show how fucking uncomfortable it was to be laid out like this, like a little kid being roped into playing doctor with the other schoolchildren, all of them just wanting to touch and explore and take. He squirmed in the chair and then looked up as Chris stepped into view, the man bracing himself above Leon with one hand by Leon’s neck and the other by his arm. 

“I don’t like this,” Chris told him. “I don’t like this one fucking bit.”

Leon’s gaze softened. “I know,” he assured the man. “But we don’t have any other choice.”

“Yes we do— get you back to the states and see if they can operate.”

“Luis’s note said the only option was a special radiation,” and Leon had no idea what that radiation would even do to him in the long run. “We don’t have time to let them experiment and figure shit out at a snail’s pace. Progress comes with breaking a few eggs, Chris, there’s no way they wouldn’t use me for the harsher side of the experiments to cure Ashley anyways.” He smiled sadly, looking up at the man with sympathy. “You know I’m not the priority. I either die to this thing, or I die under the scalpel stateside. I’m expendable. Men like us always are. I’d rather take a chance here because I have faith in Luis. And…”

Leon stared into Chris for a long moment before bringing up a hand and cupping the man’s cheek, affection bleeding from Leon like an open wound. “I’ve got a lot to fight for,” he said, even as the dim knowledge of the eventuality of them parting ways again makes his chest heave. “I’m not about to give up. Not at the chance of having you again.”

Chris laid his huge palm over Leon’s hand and squeezed. Then Chris bent down and brushed their lips, a gentle touch that made Leon shudder. Leon had been kissed by many people in his life, but he’d never had someone kiss him as delicately as Chris, like the man thought Leon was something sacred and special and worthy of the utmost care. It was probably why it had been hopeless for Leon to try to move on in the first place. No one loved him like Chris did. Absolutely no one.

There was a soft noise behind them and Chris pulled away from the kiss to step aside as he looked back, also letting Leon see the stunned look on Ashley’s face. Leon winced as he realized that they definitely had some explaining to do. Leon had been pointing his gun at Chris at the beginning of the night, and now they were kissing like lovers. Leon probably would’ve been just as shocked as she was now.

“Operate the machine,” he told Ashley, promising himself he’d give her the explanation she deserved later. “Don’t make Chris do this.” He didn’t want the man to be the one to put him through the kind of torture it would take to remove the Plaga. 

Chris stepped back, expression grim, and Ashley nodded before tapping away at the controls, the instructions likely in English as well, implying this definitely wasn’t Saddler’s design. The lighting changed as the nodes above him began to glow a bright white and clamps came down over his wrists, restraining him. At the console, Ashley was wearing a face of concentration. “You sure you wanna do this?” Ashley asked. 

Leon swallowed hard. “Yeah,” he said. 

“Alright.” Ashley turned back to the screen. In front of her, Chris was standing vigilante, only a few feet away from Leon with a harrowed expression. Leon tried to give him another reassuring smile. “Here goes nothing.”

The whir of the machine reached a high pitch, piercing Leon’s ears, and the lights became as bright as collapsing stars when—

The pain was _excruciating,_ worse than Saddler’s control of Leon, worse than the first bought of convulsions, worse than being shot, but— not the worst he’d experience in Leon’s life. He couldn’t scream, the burning of the machine pressed to his chest and destroying the Plaga from the inside out strangling his throat. Weak noises were shoved out of his throat, breathless gasps and grunts that didn’t even come close to demonstrating the absolute torment Leon was surviving. 

As the machine shone brighter and brighter like some sort of implication of progress, the pain only got worse, Leon’s heart hammering in his chest like cardiac arrest, his lungs refusing to take in air, his muscles convulsing and forcing him to writhe against the restraints like escape would save him. It went on forever and ever until there was a burst of renewed ache through his chest and spine and nervous system, a flash of pain so overwhelming that Leon lurched off the examination chair, arching into nothing, before dropping back and gulping down air as the horrific process finally ended and Leon was left weak and useless. 

The restraints released him and Chris’s hands were on him, pulling Leon up from the chair before he could even process that it was actually over. “How’re you feeling?” Ashley asked, her tone almost motherly. 

“Like a million bucks,” Leon rasped, leaning into Chris as the man carefully brought Leon’s face into his neck and ran a hand through Leon’s hair, a split moment of physical comfort that Leon soaked in like a sponge. He kissed the feverishly sweaty skin of Chris’s pulse in gratitude before pulling away and swinging his legs over the edge of the chair, ready to be out of the hot seat.

“I thought you were gonna die,” Ashley said.

“So did I,” Chris whispered, only audible to Leon. Chris had never looked so pale.

“Guess I’m up.” Ashley stood behind Chris, visibly anxious. Leon had no way to alleviate her fears because he knew he couldn’t lie to her. That had been one of the worst experiences of his life— at least top ten.

Chris pulled Leon out the chair and kept him close, not even letting an inch of space come between them as Chris faced Ashley and asked, “Do you need to hold a hand?”

Ashley made a face and planted her hands on her cocked hip, faux-confidence sliding over her like a blanket. “If Leon can do it, then so can I. I’m not some helpless damsel, you know!”

“Pain is pain,” Chris told her gently. “There’s no weakness in hurting.”

“I’ll be fine,” she insisted. Chris shook his head but stepped away from the chair, grip still firm on Leon’s arms. Leon wished he could just take a good ten minutes and rest in Chris’s arms, but he had work to do. He pulled away from the touch with an apologetic expression and went to the console, looking it over, grimacing at the x-Ray display, especially when Ashley laid down in the chair and Leon was treated to the sight of the Plaga parasite squirming within her. The thing was so large— it really had to have eaten away at something preexisting in the human body to make room for itself. “I’m ready, Leon,” she said. 

Leon grit his teeth and pushed the button, the lights flaring again and Ashley writhing in the seat. Tiny little noises of pain left her and Leon couldn’t take it, couldn’t stand the way she fought against the restraints, how she tried to be quiet, how her eyes were squeezed shut and her small body trembled like Sherry—

Chris took Leon’s hand in his own and Leon squeezed the man’s hand so tight he was sure he was breaking something. They stood side by side and watch with bleak expressions, helpless to keep this onslaught of agony from their charge. _It was for her own good_ didn’t even come close to making Leon feel any better about this. 

The light faded and Ashley slumped back into the chair, feeble and unable to open her eyes. Chris and Leon pulled their hands apart as they both ran for the chair, Chris pushing away the restraints that unlocked too slowly for his taste and Leon looking over Ashley, searching for physical wounds that wouldn’t be there. “You okay?” he asked.

Ashley sat up slowly, looking between him and Chris, her huge eyes so young and scared. Then she lurched forward, her arms coming up to wrap around Chris and Leon’s necks and pull them in for a tight hug, Ashley sighing shakily in relief. Leon and Chris grinned at each other from over Ashley. 

“I don’t know about you two,” Chris said, pulling away from the hug first, Leon following only a second later. “But I think it’s about time we got you both home.”

“I want a cheeseburger,” Ashley said with a nod. “So badly.”

Chris laughed at her statement and Leon flinched sharply at the sound because—

Leon wasn’t infected any longer. 

Leon wasn’t going to die. 

He stared at Chris, knowing what he wanted, knowing he suddenly had this huge future in front of him that he was going to have to tackle, surviving beyond this night. Everything was suddenly going to be okay in the relative sense and yet—

Leon had a very bad feeling. 

He knew what Chris wanted from him. Leave USSTRATCOM and join the BSAA. There were countless reasons why Leon couldn’t do that, the foremost of them being Sherry. It didn’t matter if Sherry was genuinely Leon’s daughter or not, she was the reason he was in this hell and he wasn’t about to leave her behind either. She was still growing, she still needed to be guarded, Umbrella was gone but the evil in the world never stayed down long, and if the world really was safe from Bioterrorism, then why had the BSAA been instated? The Umbrella Trials should have marked the end of BOWs if shit was stable. The fact that Chris was here under a globe and a funded government operation meant that it wasn’t safe for anyone and probably wouldn’t be for a very long time. 

And then—

The BSAA was full of people that had lied about Leon. He didn’t know who or how many, exactly, but he knew that at least one person in that organization gave such little care about his wellbeing that they had lied to Chris for over six years in an attempt to keep Chris from coming after him. If Leon went BSAA, he’d never be able to feel safe. He’d never stop looking over his shoulder. He would never trust anyone completely. And when he was fighting for his own survival and the good of the world and yet couldn’t trust the people in his comms getting him where he needed to go and back again? That wasn’t going to work for him. STRAT was brutal and lonely, but at least he didn’t have to worry about his evac suddenly being dropped because someone wanted him gone from Chris’s life for good. Even Chris didn’t full trust his BSAA operatives, choosing to keep Leon a secret from Jill. Going BSAA would be Leon’s death sentence in a way the solo ops of STRATCOM weren’t.

And— god, would Leon even be able to function at Chris’s side if they became something more? He was so easily distracted by the man, so easily thrown off his guard. It hadn’t gotten him killed yet, but if Chris and Leon were able to become something more, something official, Leon wouldn’t be able to ensure he’d keep the mission at its highest priority over Chris. And if Chris was a Captain overlooking other soldiers and their wellbeing, it would be suicide to send Chris on an op with Leon anywhere close by. Favoritism and concern for the men beneath Chris would be a huge risk. No soldier would follow a captain knowing they were second best compared to the lover among their ranks. And yet, if they were separated? Knowing full well what the other person was going into and not being able to help them? They’d never be able to keep their focus. And even then, Chris wouldn’t allow them to be separated at all. _We don’t split up,_ was Chris’s mantra, and he knew that would be even more of the case after this. Chris likely wouldn’t let Leon out of his sight no matter who it put in danger. 

And then there was just…

The world itself was under attack by these BOWs. The world needed strong and fair and impartial men and women to defend it. If Leon and Chris were _Leon and Chris,_ they couldn’t be impartial. They’d put the other over any threat. If it came down between saving the world and saving Chris, Leon would let the world burn. And he knew Chris would do the same. 

Cold dread slid down Leon’s spine as he understood exactly what it meant for his life now that he was surviving the Plaga.

“This isn’t gonna work,” he said, stunned by the realization. Neither him nor Chris were going to quit the fight. Chris wasn’t going to leave the BSAA and Leon wasn’t going to leave USSTRATCOM. Neither of them were going to be able to give up the one crucial aspect that they needed to sacrifice to make something between them work. Leon couldn’t be with a man that was constantly worlds away in a fight to the death and Chris wouldn’t be able to safely function if he was worried about Leon back in the states. This— it wasn’t going to work. 

Chris frowned as Ashley’s brow pinched in concern. “What’s not gonna work?” Chris asked him. “We got the Plaga out— we can go.”

Leon swallowed past the sickness in his heart. “Yeah,” he said, voice catching. “Yeah, you’re right. Let’s go.” He strode forward, taking point so Chris wouldn’t be able to see his face and read him like the open book he was for the man. Leon led them through the facility and into the open air, the cold night reaching its end and the sun about to rise. Leon pulled out his communicator, pressing it to his ears and flicking through the channels to find—

“Mike.”

_“Reading you loud and clear, boss!”_

Leon allowed himself a moment of elation, beyond relieved to hear the pilot was still kicking. “We have Ashley and we’re ready for extraction— any leads on a place where you can pick us up?”

_“Sure do, got a nice flat piece of land that you guys can make it to. It’s just, uh—”_

There was the sound of the rotor of the copter accelerating and Leon looked into the sky to see the helicopter over head before it dipped out of sight again. 

_“Just a klick east of you. Think you can make it?”_

“Without a doubt,” Leon said, surveying the surrounding area. There was an industrial construction lift that rose into the sky and Leon knew they should just turn tail and leave through the tunnel to their left, but—

“Just one hitch,” he told Mike, glancing back to Chris and Ashley. “I’ve got a bad feeling,” he said, seeing Chris’s grimace at the words. “Redfield and I have to check something out before we get to you. Keep an eye on Ashley Graham from the skies. We’ll be back soon.”

_“Roger that.”_

“Where are we going?” Chris asked.

“Something’s not right,” Leon replied as he tucked away the communicator, looking up at the tall tower of metal beams that held up the huge platforms the elevator led to. The wind gusted around them, an eerie howl. “Ashley, you stay here,” he ordered as he strode to the lift. “Redfield, on me.”

“On you, Kennedy,” Chris replied, the click of his MP5 being brought forward reassuring Leon’s worries. At least Chris was loyal to him, regardless of the awful conclusion Leon had made. He had no idea how he was going to break it to Chris, knew he was selfish to—

Leon, stop.

He couldn’t get lost in his head. 

Chris gave Ashley a cheery wave goodbye as the lift ascended, the lift jerking beneath them. “Almost home free, right?” Chris asked Leon for conversation’s sake. “Can’t wait to get a decent shower. And after that, I wanna take you fishing.”

Fuck, Chris was making plans that would never happen. “Fishing?” Leon asked, cocking his head, forcing a smile. “Why fishing?”

“I love fishing,” Chris replied. “I did it with my dad every summer. He said it was important that I learn the patience. I just loved listening to the water and being with him. After he was gone, I’d fish with Barry and other people I was friends with. Not Forest, though, he got bored ten minutes in.” Chris smiled fondly. “I’d like to take you on a fishing trip with me. It’d be nice.”

Leon felt like he could cry. 

The lift stopped. Leon looked across the construction platform and saw Ada hanging from a hook by rope around her waist and her arms tied around her back, unconscious. 

“Ada!” Leon shouted, running forward, and—

Saddler stepped out from behind equipment and steel, his Plaga staff writhing in the air. “Don’t you come any closer!” Chris shouted from where he ran up beside Leon, bringing his sights onto the villain. 

Saddler stared down at them and lifted his hand, staring into Leon, and what was he—

Leon snorted a laugh as he understood and then stood tall, a cocky grin tugging at his lips. Leon held up Krauser’s knife when Saddler dropped his arm with a grunt of anger. “Better try a new trick,” Leon quipped. “That one’s getting old.” He threw the knife through the air, the blade cutting clean through the rope. Ada dropped down and landed hard atop a tarp covering other building supplies. “You okay?” Leon asked kindly, turning his attention from Saddler to her, needing to make sure she wasn’t hurt.

“I’ve been better,” Ada replied, her tone soft but the gratitude in her eyes palpable. 

Saddler laughed. Leon turned to him with a scowl. “What’s so funny?” Chris snapped.

“Oh, I think you know,” Saddler drawled as he walked towards them, slow and menacing. “The Americans prevailing is such a cliche that only happens in your Hollywood movies! Oh, my two favorite stubborn boys, you entertain me! To show you my appreciation, I will help you awaken from your world of cliches.”

Saddler’s head dropped back, jaw unhinged and stretched wide as a grotesque, yellow eyeball burgeoned from his throat and stopped at his teeth, the pupil darting around with the focus of a deranged animal. Beside Leon, Chris made a noise of genuine disgust. “Ada!” Chris shouted as he locked and loaded the MP5. “Stay back!”

Saddler laughed louder as his body was slowly torn apart by the parasite inside of him. His entire head with dislocated and brought forward on a neck as long as a human body itself, crab legs of muscle and tissue erupting from the same place. The pointed ends of the legs lifted Saddler’s limp body from the ground, his entire cadaver just hanging uselessly in the air as the central connection for the horrific pincers with a single tentacle writhing in the air, three claws at the end like a demented carnival crane game, Saddler’s ruined face in the center, eyeballs embedded in each joint. Chris’s noise of disgust became even louder and the man sounded like he was going to gag as blood and puss was rained down from the ravaged body and monstrous limbs. Leon took a step back into Chris, their sides brushing, both of them wearing twin expressions of honest loathing.

“Never eating crab again,” Chris said. 

“Same as always,” Leon said. “Aim for the eyes.”

“Here.”

There was a nudge at Leon’s side, and he looked down to see Chris handing him his combat knife. “You’re better with that shit than me,” Chris said with a wink. Leon had thrown his knife probably into the ocean to get Ada down. Krauser— was gone. And Chris was giving Leon his knife instead. 

Leon took the blade with a grateful smile and slid it into the duct taped sheath on his shoulder. Saddler’s filthy tendrils whipped through the air, but Leon only had sights for the eyes. “You keep him distracted,” Leon ordered, formulating the plan cleanly in his head. “Take out the eyes and I’ll get damage to the real weak spot.”

“Saddler’s fuck-ugly face,” Chris specified. “Got it.” Chris squeezed the trigger of his gun and one of Saddler’s legs was peppered with bullets, the leg itself shuddering slightly. “Hey, asshole!” Chris shouted as he broke away from Leon, a steady gait around and baiting Saddler away. “How about you and I have some personal one-on-one time!” 

Saddler fell for it, the man’s hubris not allowing him to see through such an easy ploy. Leon scanned the area they were fighting on, saw the two cranes laden with steel beams and the cranes attached, the system that would bring it around, the easy hit points that they could get. Leon darted forward, heading for the first mechanism, climbing up the platform and standing next to the button. Below, Chris was keeping up a gait of fire, always keeping good distance between him and Saddler, countless taunts falling past the man’s lips. Leon brought up the rifle and peered down the scope, finding one of the eyeballs and decimating it with a high caliber slug. Saddler yowled and his legs buckled, temporarily immobilized. Leon waved in the air, shouting, “Bring him here!’ and watched Chris get the memo. As Saddler got back to his points unsteadily, Chris was backing up slowly to where Leon was, laughing at Saddler.

Saddler followed and Leon was pretty positive that the Plaga wasn’t a national threat if it made its victims this fucking stupid. 

Saddler stomped towards them and Chris kept backing up steadily, throwing out insults left and right that had Saddler screaming in rage. Chris was grinning and enjoying himself as he went through as little of his clip as possible, cat and mouse with a much smarter mouse. Then Chris glanced over his shoulder, looked to Leon with that same easy grin, guard down for one second and—

Saddler whipped a leg across the platform and Chris was flung to the side, hitting the railing and slumping to the grating, not making a sound.

Leon slammed the button and the steel beams were swung around, colliding with Saddler and sending the monster to the ground. Leon leaped from the platform and landed atop that stupid fucking tentacle, screaming his fury as he straddled the writhing mass and held Chris’s knife high above his head before bringing it down into the twitching eyeball in Saddler’s mouth, relishing the shriek of pain. The appendage whipped about and Leon was thrown into the air. He flipped gracefully and landed in a crouch, taking the precious seconds he’d bought himself to run to Chris’s side and get his hands on him, pulling Chris to his feet. 

“I’m okay, I’m okay,” Chris said, even though there was a bruise along his jaw the size of Leon’s palm and there was a rattle in his lungs that even Leon could hear. “C’mon, let’s go.”

 _“Chris—”_

Chris staggered to his feet and lifted the .45 from his waist, firing a round just over Leon’s shoulder into the leg that would have skewered Leon while he was idle. _“Go,”_ Chris insisted. “Let’s just get this over with.”

Leon had no choice but to obey, running across a walkway that led to the second platform with the second set of beams, glancing back every other second to watch Chris keep his cool and keep up his role as the distraction. Overwhelming love filled Leon’s chest and he shoved it down, knowing it was futile. Love never saved anyone. The sounds of the fight behind him spurred Leon forward and he sprinted to the second control area, climbing atop it and looking back to see Chris was steadily coming back to him, now on the shotgun, probably down to try few bullets. There was a limp in his steps. Chris looked tired. Leon brought out his rifle and fired into one of the eyes, crumbling Saddler to the ground again. He pulled the bar, pulled the trigger again, but—

Nothing.

He was out of rifle ammo. 

“Chris!” Leon shouted, bringing out Rot and firing, watching his shots land with wavering accuracy from such a distance. “Get over here, now!” 

Chris wasn’t as fast as he could be, but he put up the valiant effort that made Leon’s chest ache at his bravery. Leon laid down his shotty cover fire as Chris jogged across the platform to where Leon was unable to do more. There was a moment where their eyes met again, but Chris wasn’t as cocky this time. There was blood down the corner of his mouth. Saddler was right behind him and—

That awful clawed head snatched Chris by the ankle and yanked him off his feet and up, whipping around like an alligator trying to snap the neck of its next meal. Leon screamed a wild protest, but couldn’t fire any shots at Saddler, terrified of hitting Chris. Saddler reared his ruined neck back and flung Chris through the air, Chris’s body plummeting for the unforgiving grating from nearly two stories high. 

Leon didn’t think, didn’t let himself hesitate. He dove forward and jumped from the platform, timing it perfectly on sheer instinct and luck and colliding with Chris midair, snatching Chris into his arms and whipping his grappling hook at the crane tower, the cable catching them and keeping them from breaking bones on the platform, instead rolling into a smooth landing, Leon cradling Chris to his chest and keeping the brunt of the hit on himself. 

They rolled to a stop with Chris’s body atop Leon’s, and Leon with his arms wrapped around Chris’s shoulder, gasping in relief, overjoyed to know he’d been fast enough. Chris recovered quickly, lifting himself up on one arm and peering down at Leon with an unreadable expression. Even though Leon didn’t know what Chris was thinking, the look in Chris’s eyes had Leon’s heart pounding treacherously. Chris took Leon’s cheek in his hand and gave him a firm nod. “Let’s keep going.”

“He’s almost as good as dead,” Leon agreed, panting a little still. “What’s a few more hits. On me?”

Chris grinned. “On you, Leon.”

They sprung up and Chris grabbed Rot from Leon, firing it up into Saddler’s face as Leon ducked beneath the legs and slipped past the limp body of Saddler’s carcass, running for the controls again. He climbed up and looked back, Chris taking that steady pace again despite the limp. Leon hovered his hand over the button, waited with bated breath, and then—

The perfect spot. Leon slammed the button and the beams swung around, colliding with Saddler and sending the fucker down again. Chris fired bullet after bullet into Saddler’s eyeball and the puss spewed. For a moment, Leon thought this was it. Then another claw whipped out, Chris narrowly avoiding it, and Leon gave a gust of air. “Are you fucking kidding me?!”

“Leon!” 

Leon looked up at the crane tower and saw Ada. “Use this!” she shouted, throwing down—

“Oh fuck yes,” Leon actually moaned picking up the rocket launcher and aiming the sights. “Out of the way, Chris!”

Chris only took a few seconds to get it, running out of the way and actually leaping over the railing, hanging over the ledge by his hands as Leon squeezed the trigger and sent the rocket flying, piercing that disgusting eyeball and sending Saddler into his final death throes, the appendages and limbs spasming as his monstrous body was blown into smithereens. 

Leon couldn’t keep from smiling if he tried. 

“Oh thank fuck,” Chris said as he pulled himself back up the railing. Leon dropped down from the platform and pulled Chris back onto solid ground, then went to check out the blackened corpse that was already decaying. There was something beside it, a vial he recognized from Luis. Leon went down on his knees and picked it up, looking it over with interest. 

There was the click of a safety being drawn. Then another click. 

“Sorry, Leon,” Ada simpered, sounding the opposite of sorry. “Hand it over.”

“Put the fucking gun down!” Chris shouted. Leon looked up and back, stared past the barrel of the gun to his head to see Chris with Rot in Ada’s back. “You fucking— why do you keep doing this?!”

“It’s nothing personal, Chris,” Ada assured the feral man. She stepped closer to Leon, her hand brushing the back of his neck and Leon felt something touch the pocket of his leg but didn’t think much of it.

“Ada,” Leon said as he stood slowly and handed over the vial. “You do know what this is.” He kept his hands in the air, watching the woman closely, wondering why she could act like she cared so much about him one moment and then put a gun to his head the next. 

Ada hummed softly as the whir of a small, non-combat helicopter drew Leon’s attention. As he and Chris both turned to find the source of the noise, Ada suddenly fell away and ran for the edge of the platform, swan diving off the ledge and out of sight. Chris and Leon both ran to where she’d dropped.

A helicopter rose, revealing Ada perched regally in the passenger hold. “Don’t worry,” she told them over the roar of the ‘copter. “I’ll take good care of it.”

“Ada!” Chris shouted.

“Gotta go,” she said. “If I were you, I’d get off this island too.” She brought up a small device, like a personal computer, and hit a few buttons, then tossed the device onto the platform. Leon caught it and looked at the screen and saw—

“Oh fuck,” he snarled, seeing the countdown from three minutes and knowing it well. 

“Jesus,” Chris said. “She really pushed it.”

She really didn’t care if they died. 

“See you around,” Ada simpered before the helicopter dipped away and Chris and Leon were left standing there, feeling like fucking idiots. Leon wondered how many times they would trust the woman until they finally learned their fucking lessons. 

“We have to go,” Chris said, panic strangling him. “Leon, let’s go!”

“Mike’s rendezvous isn’t far,” Leon said as he and Chris fell away in perfect unison and ran for the lift. It descended slow enough to remind Leon of the last time they’d been stuck in some shitty elevator, desperately trying to outrun a clock. The first time Leon had ever told anyone about his parents. “We grab Ashley and get there as fast as we can.”

“Don’t bother fighting anything,” Chris agreed. “Just book it.”

The lift shuddered to a halt and Ashley stood in front of them, eyes full of concern. “Are you guys okay? I heard—”

“We have to get off this island now, it’s gonna blow any minute,” Leon interrupted, grabbing Ashley by the hand. 

“It’s gonna what?!”

Leon gave her a sharp look as Chris ran forward, already clearing the way. _“Run.”_

It was a mad dash, a blur of Leon’s last burst of adrenaline as they ran through crumbling tunnels and across the ruins of the militia strongholds, heading for the cliffs, for the only escape they had. Leon’s comms shrieked and Leon fumbled to bring it to his ear, desperate not to slow down as the timer clocked down. 

_“I see ya, boss!”_ came Mike’s voice over the static. _“Up and left!”_

“Left!” Leon shouted to Chris as he followed the instruction. They broke through a collection of shacks and the cliff dropped away a few yards in front of them, the ground itself falling apart. 

_“I can’t land!”_ Mike shouted, his own voice desperate with some kind of fear. _“You’re gonna have to jump for it.”_

Leon cursed. “Chris, go first!” 

They skidded to a halt at the cliff face, Chris grinning disarmingly at Ashley before taking a running leap and narrowly making it into the helicopter, the craft swaying beneath his weight as the cliff started to fall away rubble nearly falling into the rotor of the helicopter from above. “Leon,” Ashley gasped in fear. 

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” Leon said before looping his arms around Ashley’s waist and spinning for momentum, flinging her across the gap and into Chris’s arms, who caught her solidly and lowered her to the floor of the ‘copter. Leon was about to make the jump when more of the cliff beneath him dropped, widening the gap. His feet slid and he barely caught himself, looking across the emptiness and wondering if he could even make it. For a moment—

For a moment, he thought about giving up. 

Him and Chris— it wasn’t going to work thanks to the world itself and the evil they fought. Sherry was about to graduate, she didn’t need him anymore, not really. Ashley would get home safe with or without him at this point. Leon had spent so much of this night thinking that he was going to die that the idea of dying anyways, even with the Plaga gone, seemed tempting. 

Then he looked up and saw the fear in Chris’s eyes and knew that even if Leon almost wanted to die, he didn’t want Chris to see it. So Leon dug his boot in and vaulted off what was left of the cliff, desperately reaching for the helicopter and—

Chris grabbed Leon by the wrist, the man hanging halfway out of the craft, roped in by his hand tangled in the belts of the seat. Leon swung in the air, but Chris’s grip was iron and he’d never felt safer. Chris grunted with the effort of pulling Leon into the helicopter, and once Leon’s feet were on solid ground again, Chris slammed Leon into the seats and kissed him hard enough for Leon to taste blood. 

“You’re okay,” Chris gasped into Leon’s mouth as Mike shouted something about getting them the fuck out of the air and the helicopter swayed as it fled the island that was beginning to explode in bright flashes of heat and fire. “You’re okay, Leon, I’ve got you.”

Leon laughed shakily and nodded, leaning in to connect their lips again and just— savor it. Because this was it. He and Chris would have that talk and they’d part ways on their terms and have no one to blame for the agony but themselves. This was all Leon had. All he was going to get. He felt tears prick his eyes and wished he could feel some sort of happiness at a mission accomplished, but—

“I love you, Chris,” he choked out. “You know that, right?”

Chris blinked slowly in confusion. “Of course I do, baby,” he assured Leon, stroking Leon’s cheekbone with a thumb. “What’s wrong?”

Leon shuddered out a breath. “I can’t leave STRAT.”

Chris went stiff above him.

“I can’t leave STRAT,” Leon said again, knowing those words hurt Chris more than anything Leon had said to him tonight, yet knowing they were the words that needed to be said above all others. “And you won’t— can’t leave the BSAA.” Chris was a founding member and one of the most skilled operatives they had. Losing Chris would be a death sentence to the cause.

“You don’t mean that,” Chris breathed like he couldn’t believe what he was heart.

Leon’s heart shattered. 

“Guys?” Ashley called out from behind them, the girl slumped into the opposite bench. “Are you two okay?”

Leon wet his lips and stared into Chris as he replied, “Peachy.”

Chris flinched. Then he pulled away, stumbling back, and Leon wasn’t sure if he was thrown by the helicopter or the weight of the realization. Leon would give anything to change the world, but as long as they both had different people needing them, pulling them in opposite directions, Leon and Chris couldn’t— they had to be separate. And they had to be okay with that. For all of Leon’s desires and torture and grief, the world had been a safer place these past six years and their own happiness wasn’t worth the risk. 

Chris stared into Leon and—

“I love you,” Chris said simply, echoing Leon. “You know that. Right?”

Leon wanted to curl up and stop existing. Instead, he nodded and made himself smile. “I do. Always did.”

“Okay,” Chris said. He seemed to visibly shake himself. “Okay.”

Leon wanted to _die._

“Hey!” Ashley suddenly cried out, peering out of the helicopter, Chris grabbing the back of her sweater on instinct to keep her in the craft and not plummeting into the water below. “Look! He made it!” Leon and Chris both looked to where she was pointing.

Fish. 

Fish on a fucking jet ski, skating across the water’s surface, completely unfazed as the island sunk into the ocean behind them. From below, Fish glanced up at them and—

Waved, he fucking waved. 

Leon felt laughter bubble past his lips even as his vision blurred, because Chris was standing beside him, warm and alive, and Leon was going to let him go. There was a jingle in his pocket, a shift of metal like change or keys. He dropped back into the bench, and dug into the pocket, pulling out two brass keys with a leather tag on each that had a number etched into it and a note. The leathers read “98” artfully carved with elegant lettering. The note was from Ada.

_”Got you and a certain someone a night at the Case De Los Leones in El Puerto de Santa María. Don’t waste it, Leon.”_

The note was signed with a kiss. Leon knew she’d slipped this into his pocket when she’d had the gun to his head. He swallowed hard around the anguish and kicked Chris’s boot. When the man looked to him, no better off, Leon held up one of the keys and passed it into Chris’s hand along with the note. 

“If you want,” he said, voice strangled. 

Chris read the note. Leon almost thought his jaw was shaking. 

“It’s where I’ll be,” Leon whispered.

Chris turned away and sat across from Leon. The few feet between them felt emptier than those six years of the world splitting them apart. 

Leon stared off across the ocean, Ashley and Mike chatting away, both of them elated and on the high of victory. They’d won, after all. They’d stopped the cult, saved, Ashley, and made the world a little safer.

So why did Leon feel like he’d lost everything— even something he’d never really had?


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AND THAT'S A WRAP
> 
> i had to mess around with some timeline stuff. terragrigia technically happens *before* re4 but i'm pushing the time around a bit so i can allow certain events to happen in the same time and also cause i would hate to think of Leon skulking around spain in the rain in fucking *autumn* without a jacket that just ain't safe hun
> 
> and you'll see an inclusion of lyrics from a song that actually came out in 2017!!! i'm sorry for the failure in continuity i'm only allowing myself a few instances of breaking the physics of time ;u; please forgive 
> 
> up next is degeneration ;u; i hope you all enjoyed this as much as i did!!!!

Rota Naval Station was gorgeous, Leon had to give it that.

He’d only seen the worst of Spain this past twenty-four hours, so being exposed to the gorgeous, sunbathed, lively green that the country had to offer was a welcome contrast to what he’d survived. The air was fresh and the scent of decay was absent. There was a pleasant breeze and the temperature was warm. All the aches in Leon’s bones melted away, the peaceful hum of the Naval station unwinding every tense muscle in his body.

“What do you mean by that?” Chris asked into the comm in his ear, finally in contact with Jill Valentine and looking like he could fall right back to that island they’d left behind and clear house just to rid himself of the rage that was boiling in his pinched expression. “What the fuck do you mean by that, Jill?”

Leon grimaced and gave the man space, knowing exactly what he was discussing. The first thing Chris had asked once he’d gotten in range with Jill again had been a demand about Leon’s status in USSTRATCOM being known to the BSAA. After all, the report had come through so cleanly to reach Chris about Leon being MIA in Spain. No one had seemed entirely surprised to see Leon’s name there, at least according to what Leon could gleam. Leon and Ashley had escaped their night of hell, but Chris was probably only just getting started with another day of unfortunates. 

Chris had been on the comms for probably close to an hour too, plenty of time for Leon to meander off base and find someplace that could piece together a passable cheeseburger, Leon having to pay twice the normal amount just to convince these people to cut open a slice of bread and get some fucking lettuce and melt some cheese on some beef. He now had three barely-passable cheeseburgers, courtesy of a kind old man that had pitied Leon’s fumbled English and attempt to communicate and given him what he needed. Leon was back in the “quarantine” room he and Chris and Ashley were being kept in until they were free to leave. Just a gray, concrete area with a single door that didn’t have a lock and an uncomfortable, tin table with four chairs. Ashley was waiting here until she could go back to the states, and Leon—

The hotel room key burned in his back pocket. He knew Chris had the other on his own person, somewhere. Leon felt like giving up as he desperately avoided thinking about what was going to happen. Worse case scenario, Chris didn’t show up. Or maybe— maybe that was the _best_ case scenario. Leon didn’t know yet and he wouldn’t know for a while. Instead, Leon sat down at the rickety table in front of where Ashley had her head in her folded arms, and pushed the cardboard container containing the Frankenstein cheeseburgers close enough for her to catch the scent. Immediately, Ashley’s head bobbed up, eyes wide. 

“You didn’t,” she said, already grinning. 

Leon smirked back and opened the container, revealing the three sandwiches. “I did.”

_“He’s a fucking person!”_

Chris’s shout had Ashley and Leon both flinching. The man ran a hang through his hair, expression tortured. Chris then turned away and left the holding room abruptly, slamming the door behind himself as he shouted, “He could have been in a grave before I found out!”

Ashley winced. “What happened to him?” When Leon didn’t immediately answer, she huffed impatiently. “Well? Are you guys dating or not?”

“It’s not like that,” Leon said dully. “Eat your burger.”

Ashley lifted one of the cheeseburgers from the boxer and bit into it, moaning softly at the taste. “It ain’t McDonald’s,” she said. “But it’ll do, pig. It’ll do.”

“Best I could manage,” Leon told her, able to grin again. And yet he knew he owed her an explanation, so the grin died just as quickly as before. “Chris and I were together six years ago,” he began softly. “After Raccoon City. We were... something.” He still didn’t know what to call it simply because they’d never had the chance to define it and any title he could think of fell short. “But it ended beyond our control. I was brought into STRAT under rather unsavory circumstances and Chris continued with fighting the BOWs and he eventually went on to become one of the founding members of the BSAA. I had been existing under the impression that he essentially left me behind. But tonight, I found out... _we_ found out that he was lied to, possibly by his very close friends.” 

He thought of the way Chris had been shouting and grimaced. “Hell, probably his close friends. He thought I’d been retired as a civilian and put under witness protection. He thought it was safe so he never thought to come find me and rekindle our relationship because he...”

When Leon trialed off, Ashley let out a soft noise of sadness. “He wanted to protect you,” she finished for him. “I’ve seen the stuff these bioweapons can do. If I were him, I’d want to leave you out of it too.”

Leon nodded. “Same here. So I can’t exactly be angry at him for doing what he’d done, you know? Yeah, I felt slighted and even abandoned for six years, but now that I know he was manipulated so awfully by the people he thought he could trust... it’s hard to hold a grudge against someone when you learn they’ve been hurting just as much as you have.”

“So you’re still in love.”

She was a smart girl. Not like it wasn’t obvious in the way they kissed, but still pretty accurate of an observation considering the stress she’d been under at the time. “Yeah,” Leon affirmed almost reverently. “We are.”

Ashley bit into her burger again. “Then why did you look like you were gonna cry in the chopper?”

As Leon had said— very smart and very observant. “We can’t be together,” he replied. “Because I’m signed for STRAT and he needs to lead the BSAA.”

“But you’re in love, Leon.”

“Being in love isn’t a cure-all.”

Ashley huffed and tore into her meal. “Guess not.”

They were both silent a moment. Then Ashley said, “For what it’s worth, I’m glad you were able to work it out and have him, even if it was just for a really scary night.”

Leon tried to smile again and wished he could feel the same. All he could think of was how he’d have to go back to the states and pretend his heart wasn’t halfway across the world in the hands of a man he might never see again. “I’m sure it’ll get easier to swallow some day.”

“That’s the way to see it,” Ashley agreed. “And who knows? Maybe things will change. The world is always growing and getting better. Maybe one day you’ll be able to make it work. Wrong place, wrong time, but not the wrong person. Maybe you two just need to wait for the right moment that you can really be happy.”

The optimism of a girl who believed in love always astounded Leon— Sherry was exactly the same. 

“It’s going to be weird to go back to the states,” Ashley said. “Seeing my friends again, seeing my dad, pretending I’m normal and wasn’t infected with the Plaga. All of those kids that think they’re safe. And I guess they are, right? They’re safe because of people like you and Chris.” She kicked Leon under the table. “We need you, Leon, so don’t you go dying on me, alright? I don’t trust anyone else to handle the job as well as you did. Saving some dumb college girl _and_ having to deal with the ex you’re still in love with? That’s pretty badass.”

She didn’t even know the half of it. Leon wanted to sleep for years after this night. The only reason he hadn’t gone straight to the hotel to wait for a man that might not even show up was because Leon was terrifyed of sleeping alone and discovering what new nightmares his mind had in store for him. Krauser was dead, but memories couldn’t be killed no matter how hard he fought. “I’ll do my best,” he said diplomatically. “I’m only human.”

“That’s an understatement,” Ashley said with a giggle as she finished off her burger. “Really, though, you’ve done this before, right? Gone through something insane and then come back and played house like everything was normal?” She cut her eyes to the sandwiches left and Leon shook his head, reaching in and taking out the burger he’d gotten for himself, tearing it carefully in half and handing her the larger piece. She let out a high pitched noise of delight. “How do I do it?” She asked. “Act normal again. How did _you_ do it?”

Leon paused, thinking about her question and staring at the cross-section of his burger. “I had a daughter,” he finally said. “Not actually my daughter, but a little girl who survived the Raccoon City incident same as me. I’d spent the whole night with the mentality of keeping people safe and I just… didn’t switch it off. I switched the focus. I went from trying to keep the rest of the world safe from Umbrella to keeping the girl safe from the world.”

Ashley’s eyes went wide. “Is she…”

Her trail off said enough. “She’s alive,” Leon replied. “But she’s not my daughter anymore.”

“Oh.” She looked like she felt sorry for him. “Well, I’m sure she appreciates what you did for her, Leon.”

Leon was sure Ashely was right. “Doesn’t matter,” He said. “I’m back out doing the same thing— making the world a little safer. And to answer your question, I have no idea how you’ll do it.” His expression became somber. “The nightmares will keep you awake for days. You won’t feel safe in your own home. Eating is difficult and self care is near impossible because survival mode puts all that shit to the back burner. You’re gonna need a shit ton of therapy, sweetheart.”

Despite Leon’s words, Ashley smiled. “You know, I was gonna ask you out until I realized you and Chris were a thing,” she said, surprisingly Leon with her blunt courage. “Shoot my shot, right? You’re pretty cute and you’re not that much older than me. I would’ve made some cute line about overtime. But then I saw the way Chris looked and you and I…” She trailed off again and took a bite of her burger. “Just seemed like I was watching a man see the stars for the first time. And that was every time he looked at you. Didn’t you have him after Raccoon? Didn’t you have anyone to help you?”

“I had Chris,” Leon replied, his words heavy on his tongue. “For one night. And then it was gone.”

Ashley’s brow twisted. “Well— better than nothing, right?”

That—

Leon thought about it a moment, thought about the way it had felt to be left behind and how hard it had been to keep going as day after day had passed without Chris coming to find him. He thought about the lonely days and nights and the moments where he’d stared into the wall and had to physically convince himself he couldn’t give up because he didn’t know what would happen to Sherry if he suddenly opted out of everything, out of life. He remembered how his heart had wept in agony when he was first able to dig up information on Chris and his friends and realized they were functioning like nothing had happened, that Leon hadn’t been taken. He remembered so vividly the moment when he realized that he meant absolutely nothing to none of them and he remembered how deeply that had cut. 

Leon also remembered the look on Chris’s face when Leon had told him he’d been USSTRATCOM for the past six years.

“Better than nothing,” he agreed, wishing he could change the world, wishing he could say fuck it all and take Chris’s hand and run and hide and be with the man he loved and care for nothing else. Instead, he was going to take one more night and cling to it for the rest of his godforsaken life.

“Who knows?” Ashley said as she chowed down on the rest of her half of the burger. “Maybe you’ll run into each other again and have better circumstances. Maybe you’ll be able to make it work someday. Maybe you’ll run into each other’s arms and kiss under the sunset. Maybe you’ll ever retire together.”

“Maybe,” Leon said. “Or maybe I’ll die before that ever happens.”

Ashley reared back like she’d been slapped. But then her expression fell into one of an unending heartache because she knew Leon was right. Her trial in hell was over. Leon’s was his career. “Don’t worry about it,” he told her, feeling bad about making her look like that. “I’m sure I’ve got another five years left in me. Who knows? Maybe the bad guys will get tired of this schtick and I can quit.”

“Maybe you can run away.”

Ashley bringing up the very thing Leon had considered for a split second of weakness was jarring. He looked away and took his second bite. At least Ashley was eating like a normal person after their night, but Leon was already facing down the hardest parts of an adrenaline crash— remembering that he genuinely was human. He wasn’t hungry. 

“I can’t run,” he said after a moment, thinking of all the arguments he had against running away when he’d been a kid and feeling like every single one still applied. “I’m not a coward. And I’m stronger than fight or flight. I can’t run. I _don’t_ run.”

“Yeah, I noticed,” Ashley agreed with a tiny smile as she finished off her burger again. “God knows I would’ve spent the whole night throwing lanterns at people and getting myself into worse situations than I was already in without you.”

“You did your best,” Leon said with a shrug. “And your best was pretty damn good. You’ve got a good head on your shoulders, Ashley, and you survived with your own abilities as much as mine. Don’t sell yourself short just because I was wary to give you a gun.” He grinned at her from across the table, enjoying the way she slowly lit up from the praise. “You survived for a long time before I found you, too. You did a fantastic job, especially for your age. I was twenty-one in Raccoon City and I had small arms training and basic self defense from the police academy. You had a sweater and killer boots and that’s it.” He lets his smile deepen, letting the fondness he felt for the girl show in his face. “You did good, Ashley. I’m proud of you.”

Ashley was practically melting across the table. The door into the small room suddenly burst open. Leon sat up straight, wondering if it was Chris, but then relaxed when he saw a younger man with a boyish, cocky grin and dark hair plastered to his face from a helmet. 

“Mike,” Leon said, standing from his seat and reaching out to clasp the pilot’s hand and shake. “Gotta say, it was a relief to have you flying high for us. You’re a credit to STRAT.”

Mike preened and gave a cocky shrug. “What can I say?” he asked, that accent thick as mud and pretty awesome if Leon admitted it. He’d always loved accents. “Just doing my civic duty as an American citizen, Agent Kennedy.” Mike looked away from Leon to Ashley and—

Oh, now that was a definite spark. Ashley was staring up at Mike with something like tired politeness and Mike wasn’t staring at her tits like he was seeing the sun, but her eyes. “I’m Mike,” he said, holding his hand out to Ashley next. “Nice to meet you face to face, Ms. Graham. Gotta say, you’ve been a pretty highly sought after prize. Think we can be declared the grand winners?”

“Sure,” Ashley said placidly, taking the hand and smiling anyways. Leon almost smirked at the exchange.

“Well, I’m here ta tell you that your magic carpet awaits,” Mike went on, unfazed. “Next stop, the good ol’ U-S-of-A. Your father’s been on the line ages. You can probably expect a parade when you get home.”

“Oh god,” Ashley complained with a contorted expression. “I’d rather head back to the island and get lost in that stupid castle again than deal with that.”

Mike laughed too loudly at her joke and Leon wished he could tell the man he was trying too hard, but where would be the fun in that? “Go home, Ashley,” Leon said, eyes glinting with mirth, honestly charmed by Mike’s attempts to be smooth and Ashley being too tired to even notice.

“Aren’t you coming, Leon?”

“There’s room, Agent Kennedy.”

Leon shook his head. “I have to meet someone.”

While Mike looked confused, Ashley was apparently not so tired that she couldn’t see the obvious. The sympathy shone in her eyes. “Good luck, Leon,” she said as she stood and fixed her skirt and untucked her hair from the sweater around her neck. “God, I haven’t even gotten to take a shower yet. Can’t wait for some skin-bruising water pressure back home, not the weak stuff I’ve heard about Europe.”

“Can’t wait to see who won the Sox game,” Mike said with a face-splitting grin. 

“Can’t wait for a fucking bed,” Leon grumbled. 

Outside, there was a loud clatter, like something had been thrown to the floor. All three of them jumped. Mike winced. “Your, uh, your friend? Captain Redfield. He wasn’t looking like he was having a fun time when I came in.”

Leon’s heart shattered for the man. “Get home, Ashley,” he ordered again, voice dull once more. “It’s over. You did good.”

Ashley looked to him and put on a brave smile. “You too, Leon,” she said, her own voice full of sincerity and adoration. Mike gave Leon a nod goodbye and Ashley left the room with the pilot, Mike immediately beginning to talk a mile a minute, his voice fading slowly. Leon was left alone in the room with the one burger left growing cold in the container. 

The hotel key burned a hole in his pocket.

Leon left the shotty quarantine room and left the facility and left the station entirely, heading into the city, intent on finding the sight of his death sentence whether Chris showed up for his metaphorical execution or not.

. . .

Ashley had been right— the water pressure in the hotel left something to be desired. Leon wasn’t picky, but he also had about 3 inches of grime and blood and sewage covering his body and he really wanted one of those lab-grade emergency showers that were meant to peel poison from the body. He had a feeling he wouldn’t be genuinely clean for months after this. Leon scrubbed at his skin and winced as he went a little too hard. He felt like there were layers he’d never be rid of. The memories of tonight would never leave him. Krauser was dead, but the bruises around Leon’s neck would take weeks to fade completely, and the remnants of the Plaga squirming beneath his skin felt almost like phantom limb syndrome. The Plaga had been an intrusive parasite, and yet his body had accepted it so cleanly. Now that it was gone, Leon’s body foolishly insisted something was missing. 

Still.

As long as he was in this shower, tearing past his own skin, Leon wasn’t in that hotel room that was notably lacking Chris. Leon didn’t think he was strong enough to face the emptiness just yet.

The water abruptly began to run cold, gooseflesh raising across his skin, and Leon cursed. He was a glutton for punishment, but he wasn’t _that_ far gone. He climbed out of the shower, winced at the cold stone beneath his feet, avoided the mirror because there was no way in hell he wanted to see just how fucked up his body was. It honestly didn’t hurt much, but seeing was believing. And the mirror was this Baroque style antique that matched the aesthetic of the rest of the hotel that Leon felt like a Twilight Zone horror story to see his reflection. 

The entirety of _Case de los Leones_ was gorgeous, an old seventeenth century mansion turned into a hotel. Everything was white and marble and old and intricate and the hotel room was actually a sort of apartment fit for a much longer stay than one night. The bedroom that Leon was in had a natural stone wall with the bed against it facing a huge window that looked out into the city, a balcony to the right that looked over _El Puerto de Santa María_ and the bathroom door just on the opposite side. It was gorgeous, actually fucking gorgeous, and yet—

Cold.

Distant.

Leon felt like he didn’t belong.

He’d grown up in squalor, a shitty town house in Hunts Point, New York City, where crime and unemployment was at its highest in the entire area. He’d been used hearing rampant gunshots and keeping his head low as he walked the streets home from school. Most people hadn’t fucked with Leon, though, because no one wanted to mug the little kid already covered in bruises. While Leon knew that his knowledge of his neighbors had made him think they could be _bad_ , he was positive that his neighbors thought even worse of his family. It had taken Leon _years_ to learn how to be quiet. He didn’t belong in a place like this, didn’t belong amongst such wealth and frivolity. Even though Leon made a healthy paycheck now with STRAT, he still counted his pennies on the dollar and lived in a small apartment, stockpiling money away like a paranoid freak. Being in a hotel room— an _apartment_ like this. He just didn’t fit in. He felt like the odd one out. He felt unwelcome.

He missed Chris. 

Leon grabbed one of the fluffy white towels that was probably as expensive as a four-piece suit from the rack and dried himself off, working mechanically, noting which places hurt worse than others and reminding himself to get checked out once he was stateside again. The cut Krauser had left on his cheek stung. Leon dropped the towel away after drying off and grabbed a fresh one to wrap around his waist, not at all excited to go into the rest of the empty apartment, but know he couldn’t hide forever. And it wasn’t like there was anyone to hide from. 

Leon fully expected the room to be empty— that was why he flinched so hard when he saw Chris standing at the foot of the bed, dressed in fresh clothes, looking as lost as Leon felt. Déjà vu washed over Leon like medicine. In the town outside Raccoon City, the hotel room with two beds, one that hadn’t been used for the rest of the night. The cold air on Leon’s skin after stepping out of the hot shower, the ache in his bones, the bruises and pain and fear that melted away at the sight of Chris at the foot of the bed. The memory was reflected back into Leon now and made him swallow how much they both had changed. More than just Leon, Chris—

Chris was so different.

Older, yeah, of course, but tired too. Whittled down at the edges like the carve of time had cut too deep and taken away more than it should have. He was strong, his muscles were bigger, his body was more toned, but Leon couldn’t appreciate how it looked without thinking of what Chris had been though to make such impeccable form a necessity. And Chris didn’t smile as much or as easily. The smiles he’d used during the night had been true, but true in the sense that he’d been smiling to reassure Ashley and Leon. None of them had been from a genuine emotion bubbling deep within Chris’s chest that had made him need to _smile._ So he was older, yes, but in more than just the added years. Chris had aged. 

He was still just as beautiful, though. Sharp, deadly, effortlessly gorgeous in the way only luck of the dice and evolution could manage. Chris didn’t have to dress himself up and fix his hair or anything like that. He was just perfect. Strong and reassuring and perfect. Leon could look at him forever.

Then Chris looked and saw Leon.

His eyes were red from crying.

“Jill,” Chris said, his voice strangled. “She told me— oh god, Leon.”

Leon swallowed hard and realized that this was their last night together. He didn’t want to think about any of it— the Plaga, Krauser, the six years, the lies. He didn’t want to think about it. So Leon dropped the towel from around his waist and stood before Chris, on display and trusting Chris with his vulnerability, not at all afraid to be exposed. He watched Chris’s eyes darken despite the pain that still swam in his gaze and knew Chris understood. 

They had only till the night was over.

“Take me,” Leon said, the words catching in his bruised throat. “I’m yours. I’ll only ever be yours.”

Chris visibly shuddered. He swallowed hard. “Can I touch you?”

“You are literally the only person who doesn’t have to ask.”

Chris surged forward, moving with desperate intent, crowding Leon against the wall and slamming into him, their teeth clacking as their mouths met and danced and fed off the other, tongues twisting and breaths melding as one. Now that the blood was gone from Chris’s mouth— the true erasure of Krauser in every way— Chris tasted faintly of nicotine. Leon sighed thoughtfully into the kiss and said, “You taste like cigarettes.”

“Fuck, fuck, wait,” Chris said, yanking away and trying to separate himself, a hand covering his mouth like his own breath has offended him. “I’ll get something, I didn’t think—”

Leon rolled his eyes and grabbed Chris by the bicep, keeping him from leaving to do something uselessly stupid. Chris made a noise of surprise as Leon slammed Chris into the wall, dropping to his knees in a fluid motion of grace, and stared up at Chris with dark eyes. “I didn’t say I hate it,” he murmured, his mouth trailing across the front of Chris’s pants, the slowly-growing bulge barely contained by the BDUs grazing Leon’s lips. He let his lips catch on the edge of the zipper and mouthed at the fabric, dragging his tongue up along the line of the shaft that he could feel through the fabric. Leon trembled as he remembered the years-ago sensation of this cock inside of him and _wanted._ Above, Chris was holding his breath, watching Leon with wide eyes. 

Leon smirked. Then he dragged the zipper down with skillful teeth, tugging when the zipper caught, pressing his face into the fabric of Chris’s boxer briefs that were damp with the older man’s excitement. “Remember that night?” he asked as he reached up to brush his fingertips along the hem of the undergarment, snapping the waistband. “When you got your mouth on me? I’d just came, I was shaking— you said you wanted my thighs at your ears.”

Chris’s own thighs quivered, the muscles jumping beneath the skin as Leon reached into the boxer briefs and pulled Chris out of the confines, Chris’s cock as gorgeous and mouthwatering as Leon remembered, full in Leon’s hand, eager for anything, eager for Leon. The tip was already an angry red, precum beading from the slit, the vein along the bottom framing the hard shaft. Leon moaned softly, staring at Chris’s cock, wanting that inside of him six years ago. 

“I thought about taking you in my mouth,” Leon confessed, feeling like he needed to tell Chris, needed the man to know Leon had never, ever gotten over him no matter how foolishly he’d tried. “I thought about choking on your cock, thought about you cumming down my throat, thought about how you’d taste and feel and sound. Thought about you painting me white.”

He took Chris’s cock and held it tight, pressing his mouth to the side of the shaft, puckering his lips in a gentle kiss before opening wide and dragging his tongue up along the side, looking up at Chris from beneath his lashes the whole time. “Came on my fingers to the thought of your cock down my throat— will you fuck my mouth?”

“Leon, I’m gonna have a heart attack,” Chris burst out, his hips canting forward uncontrollably. Leon flattened his tongue across the vein and drew up, getting Chris’s cock nice and wet as he fingers fondled the head, smearing the precum across the tip. “Oh fuck, baby, you’re gonna—”

Leon lifted himself up and sunk down on Chris’s cock, lips stretching wide to accommodate the girth, his chest clenching as his countless stolen fantasies became realized with the taste of Chris exploding across his palate. Leon moaned and leaned in, trying to take as much of Chris as he could, needing to satisfy this carnal desire. Chris was hot and heavy inside and Leon braced his hands on Chris’s hips to steady himself as he took more, grunting softly as he struggled against his gag reflex. Lower and lower, his throat widened to take the size. A shock of pleasure ran through Leon when Chris moaned brokenly into the room, huge hands coming up to tangle in Leon’s hair, the digits shaking. Leon widened his own legs, still on his knees, his own erection begging for attention, the cool air surrounding it adding to the borderline painful throb.

“Leon,” Chris gasped above him, tugging at Leon’s hair, just as desperate as Leon felt. “Oh fuck, your _mouth._ ” 

Leon would have smiled if he weren’t struggling with the fill already, working himself down on Chris’s cock with steady dips of his head, determined to make this good, stubbornly refusing to be anything less than perfect. Leon swallowed reflexively and Chris—

Thrust down Leon’s throat, a sharp snap of his hips, forcing Leon to take everything, his pelvic bone pressing against Leon’s face from how far down his cock went. Leon choked and his hands spasmed against Chris’s skin, digging his nails in to hold on tight even as he felt himself wanting more, wanting Chris to block his air completely and leave him gasping, he wanted to lose himself with Chris on his tongue, wanted—

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” 

Chris’s babbled apology and the sensation of the cock being pulled from Leon broke Leon from his thoughts, suddenly realizing that— this was Chris, wasn’t it. Chris wouldn’t want to choke him, suffocate him, Chris didn’t want him to hurt. That was— that was someone else, someone dead, someone better off forgotten. Leon held fast to Chris’s hips and refused to let him pull out completely, looking up at the man, softening his features so Chris would know he was okay. Maybe Leon didn’t want to die like that again, but he wanted Chris to feel _good_ and he knew what would work. Leon bobbed his head on the cock, showing Chris he was fine, he could take it, he loved it, he wanted it. God, did he want it.

And Chris _got it,_ he knew Leon better than anyone else and he knew what Leon wanted, knew what the man sought after. “Oh fuck,” Chris whispered as the realization that Leon _enjoyed_ choking on his cock slammed into him. Cautiously, Chris began to meet the bob of Leon’s head with gently thrusts of his own, delicately pushing his cock into Leon’s mouth, Chris’s ragged sounds as controlled and tight as his hips. Leon moaned uselessly around the shaft, the drag of the cockhead down his esophagus shooting pleasure down his spine. Leon relaxed his jaw and took the girth, spit coating Chris’s shaft with every retreat before shoving back home into Leon. Leon stopped moving, letting the hand in his hair hold him still as his throat was fucked raw by Chris. 

It was good, so fucking good, better than anything he could have imagined for himself. Leon’s cock was dripping between his legs and he could taste Chris’s arousal against his tongue with every thrust in. He dug his fingers into the meat of Chris’s thighs as his erection throbbed painfully, a shot of sinful bliss running through Leon when he realized he could get off like this, untouched, being used by Chris, he could cum from this alone. He whimpered as the pleasure peaked higher and higher, his body coiling tight as he got close as Chris fucked his face. His heart raced and his breaths came short, light headed from the sparse oxygen he could get around Chris’s huge cock and feeling his orgasm approach. He trembled and pressed into Chris, trying to get more, he was so close, he wanted Chris to cum down his—

Chris suddenly yanked his cock from Leon’s throat, and Leon looked up to see the man was wearing an agonized expression, the hand leaving Leon’s hair to grip the base of that delicious cock tightly, Chris staving off his own orgasm by force.

Leon grinned wide, his lips swollen and slick, and looked up at Chris with a depraved glimmer in his eyes. He pulled Chris’s hand away, ran his tongue along the underside of the cock to push the tip into the slit that was weeping precum. Leon looked up at Chris with pure lust, let the head catch on his lower lip, and said, “On me, Redfield.”

Chris came on command with a strangled shout, his eyes blowing wide like the orgasm itself was a surprise to him. Chris’s hips jut forward and his cum streaked across Leon’s open and waiting mouth and his skin, warm and sticky and catching on Leon’s lashes. Leon sealed his lips over Chris’s cock to take the last of the cum into his mouth, moaning at the taste, digging crescent moons into his bare lap to keep control—

Chris suddenly took Leon by the shoulders and dragged him to his feet, Leon barely able to keep upright with how hard he was and letting Chris shove him back onto the bed. Leon hit the mattress with a desperate noise, looking up at Chris, the cum marking his skin feeling like a brand that Leon would wear with pride for the rest of his life if he could, walk around and let everyone see who he belonged to, who owned his heart, who had claimed Leon in every way possible. Leon wet his lips, tasted more of Chris’s release, and dragged his own hand down his chest, pressing the flat of his palm at the base of his cock and whimpering, rolling into the teasing touch. “Please,” he begged without care, spreading his legs wide. “I need—”

Chris yanked off his shirt, the tight, white t-shirt that had honestly left nothing to the imagination when it came to how much Chris had changed over the years physically. Leon’s mouth watered at the sight of the defined muscles, the sheer strength tucked away beneath the skin tanned by months spent in the sun. His pecs are bulging, abdomen rippling with each breath, and Leon wanted to get his teeth into that skin. Old scars painted Chris’s body, and the new ones stood out, white and violent against the darker tone. Leon wanted to know where they came came from, wanted the story behind every single mark. Then Leon’s eyes were drawn down the line of Chris’s body to his half-hard cock hanging between Chris’s legs, the BDUs opened wide and loose on Chris’s sculpted hips as Chris reached into one of the many cargo pockets and threw a small packet of lube with the Navy anchor emblazoned on the plastic. The toss had the biceps in Chris’s arms jumping and Leon’s cock throbbed so hard he whined.

“Oh fuck me,” Leon whispered, unable to contain himself at the sight Chris made. “Chris, you— are _stupid_ hot.”

And then, same as hr had years ago, the confidence fell away from Chris, replaced with a bashful, almost shy expression, the man clamming up at the compliment Leon knew he deserved, yet rarely received. The heat of their fervor ebbed, but didn’t die, falling into something warm and familiar, love overtaking lust. Leon smiled, let the expression settle comfortably across his face, knowing he probably looked ridiculous while still covered in Chris’s cum as he reached up with open arms. “C’mere, gorgeous,” he beckoned. “Wanna look at you— wanna get my hands on you. So fucking beautiful.”

“Stop saying those things,” Chris fumbled out as he dropped his pants and—

“Oh _fuck me,_ ” Leon said again, voice strained. God, Chris’s thighs were so fucking _powerful_ , Leon wanted to feel them shake around him, wanting to be held tight in them, wanting Chris’s thighs at his— Leon laughed a little and then looked up at Chris, winking as he said, “I want those around my ears.”

Chris huffed as he kicked off the legs and stepped out of his pants entirely, a blush crawling down his chest that wasn’t from his orgasm. “You keep saying these things,” he mumbled. “I’m supposed to be looking after you, not the other way around. I say the nice things. Not you.”

As Chris crawled onto the bed atop Leon’s naked body, Leon decided he didn’t like that. Chris existed with the mentality that he was the roof above everyone’s head, he was the person meant to protect others from harm, he was the shield meant to take the first bullet. And that just wasn’t fucking okay. Had Chris gone these last six years with the weight of the world on his shoulders and no one even thinking to offer to lessen the burden? Chris would gladly let himself be crushed under the weight of responsibility if it meant no one else had to. And that just wasn’t fucking fair to him. Even in sex, Chris thought he was the person who was supposed to take the effort and the control and restraint of obligation just because—

Well, fuck, Chris had even had to drop out of school at seventeen to take care of his little sister after being orphaned. Chris had carried the albatross around his neck since he was seventeen years old. That would be a hard habit to break.

But then again— no time like the present. 

As Chris crawled atop Leon and settled between his legs, Leon shifted the tables and pushed Chris back by the shoulder, flipping them gracefully despite both their accumulated wounds. The aches and pains of the island fell away with the pleasure, Leon able to shove it away in exchange for the man laid out beneath him. Chris’s face was befuddled with dazed confusion at suddenly being beneath Leon, that responsibility already being taken from him at Leon’s quiet insistence. Leon settled in the man’s lap, sitting on his lower belly, Chris’s cock against Leon’s ass. Leon smiled charmingly down at the man and wiggled his hips, letting cockiness act as reassurance. “I’ve been waiting six years for you,” he says in lieu of explanation. “You know me— I’m impatient.”

“Leon, I—”

Leon arched down and pressed their lips together, kissing Chris and finding himself almost _enjoying_ the taste of the cigarettes, even as a small part of his brain kicked in and told him to hide. It didn’t matter what associations Leon had with the nicotine— Chris would never hurt him. “I wanna ride you,” Leon murmured. “Wanna make you feel good. Doesn’t that sound nice?” He dragged his lips across the line of Chris’s jaw, mouthing softly. This was the man that had taken Leon’s verbal abuse and never left his side, who had carried Leon through the darkness of another hell, who had faced down his own gun, who had killed Leon’s worst nightmare in violent fury. This was the man who gave Leon the strength to go on.“You took care of me so well back there— let me take care of you.”

Chris’s hands suddenly took Leon by the face and dragged him in for another needy kiss, the man’s tongue ravaging Leon’s mouth without warning. Leon moaned into the kiss and let Chris take what he wanted, his hard cock pressed between their bodies and begging for attention. He ground down into Chris, wanting to cum so fucking badly, but proud to have gotten Chris off first. Chris pulled away from Leon’s mouth to kiss along Leon’s face, lathing his tongue across the skin, and it was almost weird until Leon realized—

“Jesus, you’re fucking obscene,” he gasped as he understood that Chris was cleaning his own cum from Leon’s skin. “How do you taste, baby?” he asked Chris with a filthy grin as Chris ran his tongue along Leon’s cheek bone. “You taste just as good to you as you do to me?”

“Fuck off,” Chris choked out as his cock twitched against Leon’s ass, hardening again. “You don’t— don’t wanna degrade you, you’re worth so much more, Leon, I love you so much.” The words has Leon whimpering as his chest clenched almost _painfully,_ the confession so much more intimate when they were both bare and on display for the other man. “You mean so much to me— my cum on your skin, _god,_ I feel like I’m going out of my mind.” 

Leon groaned softly and rocked down on the line of the shaft between his cheeks, feeling desire sing back into his veins at the memory of having that inside of him, years ago in that shitty little motel that made this place seem like a palace. The balcony door was open, the cool breeze of the night billowing the curtains, the moon was beginning to rise, Chris looked like an effigy to the best of humanity beneath him. Leon pulled out of his hands and pressed his face into Chris’s neck, hiding inside of him. 

“I love you too,” he whispered into Chris’s pulse. “I do, I swear, I love you so fucking much that everything hurts without you.” And this night was all they had, oh god, they were going to be alone again after this, don’t think about it, Kennedy, don’t even dare think about it. He sunk his teeth delicately into the tendon of Chris’s neck and felt the man shake beneath him at the slow display of ownership, the mark Leon intended to leave behind. “I love you, Chris,” he said. “Never forget that.”

Chris’s arms came up to wrap around Leon’s waist and hold him close, a hug, a display of weakness that made Leon’s chest ache. He didn’t fight the hold, laid himself out against Chris, adjusting to the uncomfortable position to let himself be held. Chris clung to him like he was drowning and Leon didn’t have the power to keep either of them afloat— not when the weight of the future became the cinderblocks tied to their feet. Their naked bodies pressed together made Leon feel more human that he’d ever been in his life. 

Chris dug his nails into Leon’s back. The man was hurting and Leon knew why. There was no balm for this pain, no gauze that could cover the wound and stop the bleeding. They just— they would have to make the best of it. Leon pressed his lips to the curve of Chris’s ear. “You remember how to open me up?”

Chris let out this noise that sounded almost like a sob, the callback to their night after Raccoon too raw for them to handle like this. Leon shut his eyes against his own agony and pressed an open mouth kiss to Chris’s temple. “Want you to do it this time. I taught you well, didn’t I? Show me what you can do.”

“Don’t wanna hurt you.”

Leon would’ve rolled his eyes if the words didn’t mean so much to him. Compared to— compared to _him_ , not wanting to hurt Leon compared to someone who had asphyxiated Leon, Chris was just a breath of fresh air after being trapped in the dark caverns of loss for years. He nodded. “I know you don’t,” he assured Chris. “But trust me— I won’t let you do anything I can’t handle.” 

Leon sat up then, bracing one hand on beside Chris’s head before taking one of Chris’s hands in his own grip, drawing the fingers to his mouth. He needed to save the lube for Chris’s cock, his body going to need a little more to adjust after going so long with being fucked. He slipped the digits into his mouth, sucking gently on Chris’s fingers like he had with Chris’s cock earlier, lathering his tongue over the skin that tasted like salt and soap. Beneath him, Chris watched with a strain in his eyes, looking like he wanted to take Leon on the spot. Leon smiled softly around the fingers and brought them out, a line of spit connecting his lips to the tips of the fingers. Then he bent forward again, using his grip on the wrist to bring Chris’s hand around his body and down low, grazing Chris’s fingertips against his entrance, the touch sending a shiver down his spine. 

“It’s been so long,” Leon murmured, pressing back into the featherlight touch. “Please, Chris— I’ll do anything to have you again.”

Chris’s brow twisted with something almost like pain before—

Leon suddenly couldn’t breathe as Chris pushed inside, a single digit that opened Leon up with absolute care and almost clinical efficiency. Chris didn’t hesitate in working the finger in and out of Leon, the saliva slick enough to stave off the worst of the stretch. Leon’s eyes fell shut as his body responded eagerly, his erection leaking onto Chris’s abdomen, his need gathering in the curves of the firm muscle, glistening in the moonlight that bloomed through the opened windows and balcony door. Chris fucked Leon on the one finger for too long, Leon moving back into it and wanting _more._ “Chris,” he panted, desperate, the older man not even seeking out Leon’s prostate, just fucking Leon with the too-small digit and not giving him anything. “Please, please— why are you—”

He looked down and—

Chris, the absolute fucker, was _grinning._ He knew exactly what he was doing. Leon whined, low in the back of his throat, and sat back on his haunches, grabbing Chris by the wrist again to hold him in place as Leon fucked back on the finger, trying to find that spot. “Hey now,” Chris huffed, splaying his free hand across Leon’s lower belly, his thumb rubbing circles into the jumping skin. “Patience, baby, patience.” Then Chris pulled his wrist free and suddenly two fingers, then three were inside of Leon, fucking him sharply, stretching wide to open him up and curling down to drag across his prostate with each thrust and Leon— couldn’t breathe, oh fuck, it was too good, suddenly Leon’s attempts to grind on the fingers weren’t enough and his thighs shook with the effort, Chris playing him like a fiddle, Leon was gonna—

Leon threw himself forward, arching up the bed, hovering above Chris with his hands on the headboard as he yanked himself off to escape the fingers. Below, Chris leered up at him, eyes sharp and defiant. Oh yeah, the fucker knew _exactly_ what he was doing to Leon. Leon struggled to regain his breath, remembering how Chris had gotten Leon to cum so quickly six years ago with only his hand, sending Leon into ecstasy with vehemence. Yes, Chris looked different— but when he was with Leon, he hadn’t changed one bit.

“You fucker,” Leon panted as he smiled down at Chris with breathless love. He turned and snatched the packet of lube from off the bed, tearing it open with his teeth and slicking it between his fingers before reaching down and taking Chris’s cock and pushing the wetness of his palm into the heated flesh, then holding the cock steady steady. “Be careful, darling— might just bite off more than you can chew.” 

As Chris’s brow furrowed at the words, a blush darkening at the pet name, Leon arched back and put Chris’s cock against his entrance. He took in a deep breath and then sank down, taking Chris’s entire length in one drop of his hips, sitting in Chris’s lap with a broken noise, eyes slipping into the back of his head from the suddenness of the sting and loving the way his lungs stopped working entirely. His blood roared in his ears as his body adjusted slowly, Chris’s cock finding its place inside of him once again, Leon’s entire being singing in relief and euphoria. He couldn’t move, impaled on Chris’s cock, trembling around him and barely breathing. He felt like he was flying high above the world, suspended in the perfection of being with the man he loved more than anything after so long of being without him, grounded only by the sensation of huge hands on his hips, fingers rubbing soothing motions into his skin. Leon came back to Chris’s voice whispering softly and brown eyes staring up at him with genuine concern. As Chris filled Leon’s awareness again, he smiled serenely down at Chris and rolled his hips.

Oh _fuck_ , that was good.

“Oh god,” Leon gasped as Chris overwhelmed his senses, gravity forcing him to feel Chris as deep as his body allowed. His legs trembled around Chris’s torso and he couldn’t stop smiling. Tears pricked at his eyes too, but he steadfastly ignored them in favor of the pleasure. 

He lifted himself and dropped back down, choking on a moan as Chris’s cock hit that spot harder than the fingers could have managed, blunt force sending electricity through him. Chris’s hands clutched at Leon hard enough to bruise and Leon looked down to see the man with his head thrown back and buried in the pillows, biting the pillowcase. For a moment, there was a bright flash of light like lightning, Leon sure his thoughts had just suffered something like a stroke from how amazing this felt. He thought no more of it and planted a hand on Chris’s chest, bending forward, arching above and working his hips back to ride the man, a gradual, torturous pace that had Chris releasing the pillowcase from between his teeth to shout helplessly into the wet spot he’d made.

“There you go,” Leon breathed, not even feeling his own bliss anymore, wanting to watch Chris fall apart again. Every muscle in Chris’s body was wound tight and trembling beneath Leon’s hand. He moved faster, riding on Chris’s cock as hard as he could, watching Chris lose more and more of his mind, watching Chris tense up everywhere as he fought to keep himself from losing control. Leon worked his hips harder, glancing back down his body to watch his ass bounce in Chris’s lap, the slap of skin on skin sending a thrill through him. He was heaving for breath with the effort of riding Chris, every part of his body tired and aching from the island, but needing to do this, needing to make Chris feel so fucking good, needing Chris to—

“I can’t!” Chris suddenly cried out, hips canting helplessly for a few seconds, fucking Leon up into the air with the force for the thrusts that shoved tiny, hitching noises of rapture from Leon, Leon’s wide eyes slipping into the back of his head from the sudden sensation. “I can’t, I can’t, Leon, I’m sorry, I can’t,” and suddenly the world was spinning, Chris pulling out, pushing Leon down onto the mattress, Chris’s hands taking Leon by the inside of his legs to bend Leon in half and gets Leon’s knees to his ears. Chris lined up, slammed inside again, and Leon—

Came so hard that he lost himself entirely, bowing off the bed as well as he could when pinned down by Chris’s weight, babbling nonsensical words into Chris’s mouth as the man kissed Leon through the world-ending orgasm, stealing Leon’s breath again, leaving him light headed and useless as Chris’s hips snapping into him, fucking Leon so hard that the feet of the bed scraped on the hardwood floor. Leon scrabbled uselessly at the sheets, trying to hold on, immobilized by the position, spread so wide he couldn’t hide if he wanted, Chris’s cock pounding into him like a piston, he couldn’t breathe in the best way, he couldn’t fucking think, he—

Came again, without warning, without a build, without any logical sense to it, an orgasm that ran through him like being tased, his scream piercing and echoing off the stone walls. Chris didn’t stop kissing him through it. Leon sobbed raggedly into Chris’s mouth as his body trembled and spasmed and the sob became a moan as Chris suddenly snapped his hips so harshly that Leon’s skull knocked the headboard as Chris came inside of him, warmth coating Leon’s insides and completing him in a way he’d yearned for since Raccoon City. As Chris rattled through his own release, Leon laid useless on the sheets, staring up at the man with the reverence of a common man witnessing god for the first time. Then Leon forced himself up, testing the limits of his flexibility to kiss Chris back, tasting him and reveling in the whimper he felt from Chris. 

_“Good,”_ Leon breathed into Chris once he had his voice back. “You’re so good to me.” 

Chris sluggishly returned the kiss as he let Leon’s legs fall back down to a natural position, Leon opting to let them rest around Chris’s waist, holding him there, loose but secure. “Fuck,” Chris panted, still coming down like Leon was, both of them trembling intermittently. Leon’s chest was wet with his cum and his inner thighs wet with Chris’s cum and he felt so marked up and owned and perfect that he couldn’t even bother himself to think about—

“Shower,” Chris said as he turned his mouth to kiss the corner of Leon’s cheek. “Come— come take a shower with me.”

That—

Taking a shower _with Chris?_ Fuck complaining about cleaning, Leon was down for that. He grinned tiredly and nodded. “You made me all dirty,” he teased. “You might as well be the one to clean me up.” Chris laughed against him and the sound made Leon’s heart soar. Everything ached beautifully and as Chris pulled away and pulled Leon up, he groaned softly and reveled in the soreness. 

Their fumbled walk to the bathroom was encumbered by their inability to separate, still kissing even as Chris stubbed his toe on the wall and Leon nearly tripped over the bathroom rug. The water wasn’t able to reach peak heat from the shower Leon had taken only moments ago, yet neither of them cared as they stood beneath the spray, pressed together, skin to skin, wet and refusing to be apart. Chris lathered soap into Leon’s hair and Leon ran his hands down the expanse of Chris’s godlike chest, pressing into the kneading at his scalp and wishing he could purr or show his affection for the touch. Instead, he kissed the scar on Chris’s shoulder and whispered his love into the slick heat of the mark. 

Inevitably, Chris’s hands found their way to Leon’s body again, fingers searching between Leon’s legs, pressing inside delicately because the oversensitivity and soreness still sent small shocks through Leon and hitched his breath. Chris’s fingers slowly fucked his cum back into Leon and he came a third time that night, held tight in Chris’s arms, eyes huge and unseeing as he came dry, toes curling on the shower floor as Chris held him up with an arm around Leon’s torso, being the only thing keeping Leon standing as his world fell apart in bright light and sound and Chris, only Chris. He was left dizzy and feverish from it and pressed slack kisses to Chris’s neck as he struggled to come back to earth.

The tired give and take of their bodies and the easy warmth of the water lulled Leon into a daze of quiet bliss. And when Chris shut off the water, declared Leon spic and span, Leon found it so easy to smile that it felt like he was twenty-one years old again and thinking the future in store for him would be heaven on earth.

Chris threw a towel over Leon’s head, one of the last towels in here, and Leon sputtered a protest before yanking it off and twisting it, smacking the tail of it on Chris’s calve, his movements becoming sharper as he regained more of himself from that last orgasm. “Fucker,” he said while grinning so wide it hurt. He quickly dried off and tossed the towel onto the sink, running his hands through his dripping hair and cocking a hip, not missing how Chris couldn’t look away from him. Leon’s legs were still weak from how hard he’d been came and he knew Chris’s hands were bruised into the pale skin of his thighs. He probably looked wrecked and he knew he looked damn good like that. 

Chris apparently couldn’t seem to take it. He barreled forward, getting his arms around Leon’s waist and dragging Leon back to the bed, where he threw aside the soiled comforter and laid Leon across the clean sheets beneath. Leon laughed and squirmed up the bed, resting his head on the pillows and opening his arms, beckoning for Chris to come into him. Chris dropped onto the mattress and crawled to Leon, curling into his arms, melting into him with a soft sigh of relief. They laid together, basking in the afterglow and the comfort of the other man, eyes shut and just existing together. And in the quiet, in the safety, in the stillness of the night, Leon’s treacherous mind made him start thinking. 

This was it.

Tomorrow, Leon and Chris would separate again and face the horrible, terrifying world alone. No more trust, no more relying on the other, no more survival out of spite. They’d be apart again and every inch of Leon insisted that being without Chris was _wrong_ on an intrinsic level and he hated himself and the world and the people who had done this to them. Those tears pricked Leon’s eyes again and he swallowed past the lump in his throat.

“Don’t cry.”

Chris’s whisper shot a pang through Leon’s heart and he let out a wretched noise, unable to keep from crying now that Chris had noticed and asked something so simple of him that Leon knew he couldn’t manage. “I love you,” Leon barely got out through the tears. “I love you so much— why does it have to be like this?” He wiped uselessly at his eyes. “Why can’t it be a fairytale? Why can’t we run away? Why does it have to be us that suffer?” 

Against him, Chris shuddered. He was crying too. “I don’t know,” Chris confessed. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” Leon almost spat. “This isn’t your fault— you hear me?” He sat up and loomed above Chris, glaring sharply. “This _isn’t your fault._ It’s theirs. If we’d known better, maybe things would have been different, but they’re not, and neither of us are to blame for it. _It’s not your fault._ Never shoulder the blame of bad people who did bad things. Not you, Chris. You’re too good.”

Chris blinked up through the tears that were shining in his eyes like precious gems and Leon couldn’t take it. He dipped down and kissed the man, knowing he would savor every single moment and not linger on the fear and pain of tomorrow. “Tell me about you,” he said, remembering his regrets. “Everyone— every time I thought of you, I felt like it wasn’t real to you like it was to me because that’s the only way I could understand you leaving. We barely knew each other, Chris, not in the way normal lovers do. Tell me about you. I wanna know everything.” He kissed Chris slowly and carefully and let the man feel the sincerity of his words. “I want to know you better than all the others because you already know me better than anyone.”

“Krauser knew you,” Chris said and Leon flinched at the name. That man didn’t belong between them, naked and sharing a bed and their minds and hearts. Krauser didn’t belong with Chris in any way. “Didn’t he?”

Leon shook his head. “No one, Chris,” he swore. “No one knows me like you. The abuse, the fears, the instincts, the broken way I operate. No one knows me like you. It’s why it was hopeless for me to move on. Only you, Chris. It’ll only ever be you.”

Chris shuddered beneath him. “What did Krauser do to you, Leon? Just— please. Tell me once and then you’ll never have to think about him again. But the things he said to me… I have to know.”

Leon squeezed his eyes shut, the fear that crawled into his chest and making him feel cold all over a dissonant tear in his comfortable present. He dropped back onto the bed, face first, wanting to hide, though not from Chris. Arms curled around him as he laid on his stomach and Leon wished he could erase his past mistakes. But the warmth surrounding him was safe and accepting and he knew that Chris didn’t look down on him, had held Leon so carefully, had kissed him back so willingly despite the awful truths Krauser had spat into his face. Leon was ashamed of himself, but Chris didn’t think any less of him. The man deserved to know.

“Jack Krauser and I did a mission together in South America,” Leon began carefully, his words muffled by the pillow but understandable. Chris pulled him even closer and Leon selfishly took the comfort. “Just one mission was all it took. Before we left, we were getting ready and I… I-I goaded him into fucking me.” Chris didn’t flinch, but Leon did, expecting something bad, an outburst, a shout, a blow. He held his breath, terrified, waiting, expecting the sharp hit, expecting bones to break, and yet— none of it came, of course it wouldn’t, Chris wasn’t—

“I’m not your parents, Leon,” Chris reminded him in a heartbreakingly small whisper. “And I’m not— I know I can’t begin to understand what you went through. You being with another man or woman or _anyone_ is well within your right. You were left behind. You had every right to try and move on.”

“It was a stupid idea,” Leon said, the words wet. “So fucking stupid.”

Chris squeezed Leon to his chest. “It’s okay, Leon. He’s gone now.”

Leon nodded, knowing Chris was right and needing to drill the fact into his psyche. “He is,” Leon agreed. “And thank _fucking_ god for that.” He burrowed closer into Chris, turning onto his side to hide in the man’s chest. Safe and warm, safe and warm, he could talk about this with Chris, who made him feel safe and warm. Chris had been the one to comfort him after the freezer, the chill of his mother’s hateful eyes, Chris had been the one to listen to Leon’s confession in that slow moving elevator and not once judge Leon for what he’d survived, Chris had stabbed Krauser _to death_ simply because not only was Krauser a bad person, but he’d been bad to Leon. Chris was— Chris was his protector. The one person who Leon knew would always put him first. Chris was Leon’s Guardian and Leon would never find anyone who loved him more.

“Goaded him into fucking me, and it was rough,” Leon said into Chris’s chest. “He got his hand around my throat and I couldn’t breathe, but I came anyways. Felt like a fucking disease when I did.” Chris let out a soft noise of protest and Leon sighed. “You gotta let me get through this. Let me finish before you start a speech, okay? I don’t know if I’ll be able to get it all out if you butt in like the stubborn bull you are.” His words were audibly fond. There was a pause, then he felt Chris nod against his head. Good.

“We went through South America and became— partners.” He managed a smile. “He called me comrade. Pretty weird, if you ask me, but I was desperate. Been left behind and was a solo operative for four years at that point. I just wanted to feel like I had _someone_ instead of no one. And so I took it, even though the part of me that was scared of certain people, scared of men and women like my parents— it was _screaming_ at me, Chris, but I ignored it. Ignored my instincts because I just wanted to feel needed.” He grinned sardonically. “Stupid, right? When have my instincts ever been wrong? My bad feelings are always spot on.”

He fell quiet for a moment, letting himself wallow in the regret. How could he have ignored the instincts that had saved his life over and over, countless times? Leon should have known better— should have trusted himself. How could he have been so fucking _stupid_? 

Lips pressed into the crown of Leon’s head, and he was broken from the self deprecation. 

Right— he had a story to tell.

“He was injured on the op, so I went to check on him in the hospital and we, uh, fucked again.” It felt weird to talk about sex with Chris when it had been with someone that wasn’t Chris. It should have _only_ been Chris. “It was better that time, but I— I needed his hand around my neck.” He blushed shamefully. “It was like I needed to punish myself for being with another man. Being with someone that wasn’t you. I needed to pay the price for such a stupid thing and so I got off on being choked.” He cleared his throat, uncomfortable. “It’s not— being choked out, getting off on that, it’s fine, really, for anyone else except me. I wanted it to hurt and not because the hurt felt good in some pain-pleasure way. It _hurt_ and I let it hurt because I deserved it for betraying you.”

There was a wounded sound from above, and Leon knew he’d said something that tore Chris apart. “I don’t think that anymore,” he promised. “I know you would never, ever want me to hurt like that. Me doing that to myself was an insult to you and— and to me. I wasn’t wrong to try and find someone, but I was wrong to ignore my instincts. Those things kept me alive for so fucking long and I just shoved them aside because I felt lonely.” He paused again, felt the tightness in Chris’s muscles and knew that it was torturing the man to stay silent through this. “It’s fine, Chris,” he assured him. “I’m over it now. I-I got better.”

He squirmed, not sure if he was ready to talk about this next part. The memory itself honestly wasn’t all that bad now that Krauser was dead and gone. His fear of the past trauma he’d survived was never so much about what had happened, but the idea that it could happen again. Leon’s parents were still alive, still out there, so he feared. But Krauser was blown to smithereens after having rot for a good few hours, filled with holes from Chris’s fury. Leon had nothing to be afraid of. 

“The last time Krauser and I had sex, it was after his discharge from the Army,” Leon said, voice pitched low so he could tune in to Chris and make sure he was okay. Leon was relatively over what had happened with the danger of Krauser wiped from the face of the earth, but Chris had this habit of hurting so cleanly and intrinsically for Leon. It was simultaneously endearing and heart wrenching. “He was— not doing that great. He was lost and scared and angry and I wanted to offer him something good, wanted to make him feel better. I wanted to help him. It was stupid, really, because the instincts were going off again, and yet I kept ignoring them. My mind was telling me to find somewhere to hide like it was my mother stalking the hallways, looking for me with rope in her hand. I should’ve listen, Chris.” 

Leon sighed again, frustrated with himself. “I… he…” Suddenly, the words weren’t willing to come out. He swallowed hard and breathed shakily. “He, uh… Fuck.”

Chris ran his hand up and down Leon’s spine. “Take your time,” he murmured. “It’s okay.”

It really wasn’t. It had been two years ago and Krauser was dead now, he should be over this. “He— was inside me, fucking me, hand around my neck because I-I wanted it.” Leon didn’t know if he’d actually wanted it, the whole thing was a haze to him. “And it was fine, until— he kept squeezing, tighter and tighter, and I couldn’t— I tried to stop him, but I was already to oxygen deprived, I was too weak, I was digging my nails in but he— didn’t let go, didn’t let me breathe and I—”

Leon was starting to shake and his expression furrowed with confusion, unable to understand why he was reacting so badly. He was _fine,_ he was fine, he could do this, why was Leon acting like this? “I— it went dark, the world went dark, I— I died, Chris, I died.” He’d fucking died there on that soiled bed with sunlight streaming over his naked body, Krauser’s twisted grin being the last thing he saw. “I died,” Leon whispered, familiar horror filling him in a way that was frustrating because _he should be over this._ He felt Chris take in and let out a laborious breath and commended the control Chris was displaying. “Krauser— brought me back, but I died.” 

There was a long moment where Leon couldn’t speak. “… There was nothing, Chris.”

There had been nothing in death, not for Leon. He didn’t know why, had always heard of people facing pearly gates and seeing heaven, or facing the devil, some fever dream in the end of life that gave existence meaning because as long as there was a god, nothing was hopeless. And yet Leon had seen—

“Nothing,” he whispered, haunted by the word and the impenetrable darkness that had taken him in his death. “I was— alone.”

That was it. Leon couldn’t talk. He fell utterly silent and tried to tell himself that Chris wouldn’t judge him for this either, but how could Chris love Leon if Chris knew Leon wasn’t good enough for heaven or hell? 

He needed to fill the silence. “There’s nothing, Chris,” Leon said, feeling afraid at the very concept. “My life has been hell and yet— somehow that’s preferable to what I saw when I died.” He smiled, ruined. “What’s the point of it all? I won’t even have you.”

Leon was suddenly pushed onto his back, Chris towering above him, dark eyes swimming with agony. Leon stared up and then reached up, taking Chris’s face in his hands. He wanted to apologize for making Chris feel that way but—

“You have me,” Chris said, wrapping a hand over Leon’s to keep the palm to Chris’s cheek. “You will always have me. I’ll never be anyone but yours.”

Leon wished that weren’t the truth. “Even when we separate?” he asked, already knowing the answer. “You can’t be alone forever, Chris. You don’t deserve to be alone.”

“I’m not alone,” Chris told him. “I always have you with me, in my heart.” Chris smiled down and the expression seemed to hurt him just as much as it hurt Leon. “Six years ago, when I aimed my gun at the face of a young man I’d been telling myself could be an enemy and saw the very sacred moral good I fought for shining in those blue eyes, a part of me was cut away for you to exist in forever. I’m never alone, Leon, even without you, because I _never am_ without you. So even when we separate, I’ll have you with me.” He turned his face into Leon’s palm and kissed the center of his hand. “I’m always yours— you’re a part of me in a way I can never outgrow and I never want to.”

Leon felt like he could cry again. “You don’t fucking deserve that, Chris.”

“I don’t care about what I deserve— it’s all I want.”

Leon squeezed his eyes shut, unable to meet the man’s gaze. He needed to stop thinking about this, needed to move on. There was something he needed to know. “Jill,” Leon said, feeling Chris’s sharp flinch through the mattress. “What— what happened?”

Another long moment of quiet, the cool night breeze rustling the curtains being the only sound. Then Chris was laying down beside him and Leon opened his eyes again to look at the man. He wedged himself closer to where Chris laid on his back, Leon putting his head on Chris’s shoulder and slotting against him, his chest to Chris’s side. Chris’s eyes were far away and vacant as Leon ran his hand up and down Chris’s stomach, wanting to give him the same comfort Chris had supplied when Leon had done his confessional. “What did they do to us, Chris?”

“You don’t wanna know.”

That was pretty much obvious, but he had to know regardless. Leon kissed the sharp edge of Chris’s collarbone. “Tell me anyways.”

Chris took in a deep breath and held it for a second too long. “It was Jill and David and O’Brian and Barry,” he said, listing the names dully like he was reading a grocery list and not the names of people who had lied to him for six years. And— all of them? All those people? Holy god, Leon couldn’t imagine the hurt inside Chris. “They didn’t know you’d been taken into STRAT for the first year, and I think it’s because you weren’t. You went through training, right? More in depth, stuff that turned you into a dangerous weapon more than just a cop.” Leon nodded to let Chris know he was right. Chris continued. “Well, the fat cats apparently kept that under wraps, and since Sherry was put into protective custody immediately, I think my people all just assumed you had been too. And that’s what they told me because they genuinely believed it to be the truth.” Chris paused.

“… I think some of it’s my fault too,” he was able to say after a moment of quiet. “I think I just wanted to believe you were safe, so I ignored some obvious signs, like how we couldn’t actually find evidence of _you_ in protective custody, nor could we find anything of you with Sherry. Claire said she saw shit when she checked on Sherry, but it was never actually you. I think I just wanted to believe you were out of the fight and accepted it.”

“Maybe that explains a little,” Leon murmured. “But you said they only thought I was in PC for a year.” He tapped delicately on Chris’s skin. “What happened after that year was up, Chris?”

Chris tensed beneath him. “They found evidence of you going on your first operation.”

Leon remembered it. An undercover stint with no backup and not even the ten bullets he’d brought to Spain, infiltrating a small terrorist cell in West Virginia that was trying to revive Umbrella’s research on the T-Virus. It had been connected to the mass production of the Tyrants that could now be purchased via the black market, if STRAT sources were correct. Leon grimaced as he recalled the moment he’d found out that the five-strong terrorist cell was actually twenty-strong and he’d had to put them all down regardless of how they begged, pleading innocence that Leon couldn’t believe, couldn’t risk allowing mercy because the virus needed to be stopped for more than just his job. He didn’t look back on his first op fondly. 

“It was fine,” he said. “I handled it.”

Chris nodded. “I’m— I’m sure you did.”

Leon bit his lip, wondering how afraid Chris had to feel to know Leon had been fighting alone. Probably at the same level Leon felt every time he caught wind of an operation Chris went on, especially without government funding, even before the BSAA had been UN sanctioned. Leon hadn’t had evac for his first op— Chris hadn’t had funding for his bullets. 

“They found out and they— lied to me.”

Leon shut his eyes against the ache he felt for the man in his arms.

“They lied to me,” Chris repeated. “They said you were still safe. They faked updates and events and made elaborate cover ups for the real shit you did, explaining it away as other shit the US did and not _you._ They lied to Claire too, sent her the same shit and she fell for it just as easily as I did because— because neither of us wanted you in the fight ever again. And so we just swallowed it down obediently and let you suffer.”

Leon shook his head. “You didn’t let me suffer. It was out of your control.” He looked up at Chris, needing more. “Why did they lie?”

Chris shuddered a breath and Leon saw the tears in his eyes again. “Because of me,” Chris said. “Because they needed me. And they knew that if I knew what they were forcing you to do, I would drop everything and go find you and take you somewhere safe and throw everything else away.” Chris’s breath hitched. “ _And they were right._ ”

Leon curled his hand into a fist. “No, they weren’t,” he denied steadily. “Yes, maybe you would’ve come for me, but you wouldn’t have stopped fighting. You’re not the kind of person who can see the injustices of the world and take it lying down. They were wrong to assume that of you. Maybe you would’ve taken me somewhere safe, but you would’ve gone right back into the thick of it as soon as you could, no hesitation, because that’s the kind of person you are.” 

He kissed above Chris’s heart as his entire being ached. “They were wrong to define you so unjustly. You never would have abandoned your friends to the viruses. You would have come back to them. They tore the decision from your hands and controlled you with lies. You didn’t deserve that, Chris. You didn’t deserve to be betrayed like that. They used you just like the US government uses me.” He smiles sadly. “We’re just weapons to them. I’m so sorry.”

Chris choked on a sob. “Tell me about you,” he begged. “You’re right, we don’t know each other, not really. Tell me about you.”

Leon paused, uncertain of what to say. “I— I like cooking now. And I go see Sherry whenever I can and cook for her.” He grimaced. “I know you say she isn’t my daughter, but she is, Chris. She has to be. I did all of this for her, all of this pain and fear so she wouldn’t have to be in a situation like Raccoon City ever again. She’s my daughter because I’m working hard to keep her safe and comfortable and happy and that’s what a father’s supposed to do, right?” He winced. “I don’t actually know. Never had a father. I’m just glad I don’t have true custody. I’d fuck her up.”

“You’re an amazing father,” Chris said. “I’m so sorry for saying what I did. But I…” Chris trailed off, something wrong with his voice. “What do you mean— you did this for her?”

Leon—

_Oh fuck._

He’d never told Chris. He’d never told anyone, at least not someone who already knew. Even _Sherry_ didn’t know. Leon’s mouth was suddenly dry. 

“Don’t freak out,” he hedged carefully, anxiety twisting in his chest. “I— when I had Sherry and we were working on getting your families into hiding, Sherry and I were picked up by men in suits and combat gear. They took us to some base, I’m not sure which one, there was a bag over my head. I was interrogated for over half a day and I never once mentioned any of you, okay? So in official capacity, you’re not involved in Raccoon City, and neither is Claire or Ada. You’re safe.” Granted, Claire had been caught digging into Sherry’s whereabouts one too many times and was now on a government watch list, but there was still no true witness reporting her in Raccoon City in official capacity.

Chris’s grip on his arm tightened. “That’s not what I asked, Leon.”

Fuck. 

“At the end of my interrogation, I was given a choice.” Hardly a choice, really, but a decision Leon had made regardless. “Either Sherry gets sent out with no protection and no one claiming legal custody and essentially leaving her to Umbrella’s hands, or I agree to work as a special agent for the US government in eradicating BOWs and protecting certain people. So I— I went into STRAT. The contract is pretty clear that I can’t retire, so it’s until death.” He was assuming as much— he’d be lucky to live to the proper retirement age anyways. “And… that’s that.”

He waited for the fallout. He expected, an explosion, a burst of righteous fury, he expected Chris to scream.

Instead, Chris was quiet. He looked down at Leon with those tears spilling down his cheeks, horror echoing from his brown eyes into Leon. “You signed your life away for her,” Chris whispered wretchedly. “Oh god, baby, how could you do that to yourself?”

Oddly enough, Leon’s own throat constricted with grief. “I couldn’t let Sherry be taken by Umbrella,” he explained, voice cracking. “I had to protect her.”

“You could have protected her in some other way,” Chris argued. “You could have gotten help, you could have come to—”

“To all of you?” Leon didn’t mean to interrupt so harshly, but it’d had to be done. “Chris, you just told me how your friends lied to you for five years just to ensure you’d keep being their pawn in the fight. And I didn’t have any way to contact any of you. I’d been told to wait to be contacted by David. There was no help for me. And when no one came… Well, that was a pretty clear statement, you know?” He turned his face away. “I’m sorry. It was my only option at the time and I can’t take it back.”

Chris wrapped his arms around Leon and drew him into a tight hold, asking, _“How can someone who’s suffered like you be as good as you are?”_ and Leon didn’t have an answer for him. He just basked in the touch and committed it to selfish memory. 

“I could ask you the same thing,” Leon eventually said. “Because even though you now know what your friends did to you, I know for a fact you’ll be going right back to them and fighting for them.” Chris didn’t answer either. “Please don’t feel guilty for it,” Leon begged. “I can’t ask you to be anyone but yourself. You’re loyal to a dying fault, Chris, even when you’ve been betrayed. Don’t change, darling, for anyone.”

“I should hate them for what they’ve done.”

“But you can’t,” Leon argued. “Hatred isn’t in your nature.”

“I hated Krauser.”

“Krauser isn’t human.”

Chris let his head fall back. “Wasn’t. He’s dead. He wasn’t human.”

Despite what Leon had learned and said, he found himself able to smile. “Wasn’t human,” Leon corrected. “Thanks to you.” He turned into Chris, putting his face into the crook of his neck. “Tell me about you— what do you do when you’re normal?”

“I fish,” Chris said. “Lame, I know.” Leon didn’t think it was lame. “And I like going to the gym and working out stress. I like being with my friends and seeing them exist without stress. I like meeting my men and earning their trust. And I like being alive. It’s simple, really. Stupidly simple.” Chris squeezed Leon. “I’m tired.”

Leon felt like dying. “I love you, Chris.”

A shaking breath. “I love you, too.”

“Let’s get some rest.”

“I don’t want to waste this, Leon.”

Leon understood the sentiment, but— “I dreamed of sleeping in your arms every night,” he confessed. “I want to do it again. One last time. Is that a waste? Do you blame me for wanting that?”

Chris shook his head. “As long as you won’t blame me for staying awake and watching over you.”

Leon smiled and everything felt awful. “You make me feel safe, Chris, like no one else ever has. Safe enough to tell you the darkest parts of myself, the worst parts of who I am. Safe enough to tell someone about my parents for the first time in my life. Safe enough to face down monsters for you.” He leaned up and kissed Chris, his heart simultaneously slotting into place and shattering in the same second. “Don’t ever stop watching over me, Chris. I can do anything so long as I know you have faith in me.”

Chris constricted Leon in his arms. “I don’t want this night to end.”

“I don’t either,” Leon replied. “But— I guess we’re just that unlucky, aren’t we?”

Chris couldn’t deny it. He turned over and brought Leon into him, a solid cocoon for Leon to sleep easy within Chris’s arms. “Rest,” Chris said. “I’ll watch over you.”

Leon shut his eyes and didn’t sleep the entire night— he laid awake in Chris’s arms and listened to the man breathe, knowing Chris was doing the same for him. And every now and again, in the sacred quiet, one of them would whisper something about what made them who they were, and the other would do the same, letting each other know one another as intimately as they both deserved to.

. . .

The Jeep Chris has taken from Naval Base Rota came to a rolling halt on the tarmac of the airstrip, and Leon was the first to step out, boots planted on the asphalt, squinting into the sun and trying to convince himself he was something other than completely and utterly defeated. He’d fucking done the job, he’d saved the president’s daughter, he’d stopped the evil scheme of the last batch of crazies, he had every fucking right to feel like he was walking on air, and yet—

The driver’s door slammed shut and Chris stood tall in the sunlight, gorgeous and strong and just as heartbroken as Leon. They met eyes across the hood of the Jeep. Neither of them could find the words they needed to say and hear so badly. Nothing was going to make this any easier. Nothing was going to keep this from being one of the worst days of Leon’s life. 

“So,” Chris said, gesturing to the plane that was wait for Leon and the helicopter that was waiting for him, about a hundred feet away. “Shall we?”

Leon grit his teeth. “I’d rather not.”

Chris stared into Leon, and Leon knew he felt the same. This— 

This was the _worst._

Leon scuffed the tread of his boots on the black and jerked his chin, taking the lead. Chris and him left the Jeep, heading to their respective rides home. Leon didn’t know who would be here for Chris, but he genuinely hoped it was no one—

“Redfield!”

Leon squinted against the sun and—

Holy shit, John. John fucking Andrews, the man who’d gone into Africa to set up the African branch of the BSAA and the man who had kept Chris alive in the Umbrella Facility in Utah and the man who had made quite a few porn jokes when overhearing Chris and Leon’s first night together. Leon hadn’t expected to meet the man ever again simple because circumstances would never allow but—

Somehow, it was nice to see him. 

John had bounded across the tarmac with something like excitement, but that emotion died away into a dull sort of shock when he saw Leon. Leon steeled his jaw and held his head high, wondering if John even actually recognized him.

“Leon Shitting Kennedy.”

John recognized him.

“Captain Andrews,” Leon replied cooly as John came closer. He felt Chris’s eyes on him like a spotlight, knew that Chris was terrified his betrayal ran deeper than he was told. Chris was tensing, shoulders raised, hand straying for Matilda that was holster safely against his thigh, surely he didn’t think—

John strode forward and wrapped Leon up in a bear hug that brought Leon up and off his feet, hoisting him into the air. Leon grunted in discomfort and surprise, but didn’t fight the hold, honestly just a little blown away he’d been hugged at all. Those whole six years, he’d operated under the idea that everyone he had met back in that hotel room harbored disdain for him one way or the other. To be welcomed with literally open arms was—

It _hurt._

He could have had this. Leon could have been this man’s friend, his brother in arms. They could have fought side by side and become a family and Leon could have gotten this kind of hug whenever the fuck he wanted, he could have felt like a part of something and finally found that acceptance and security and _home_ , and instead he’d been forced to search endlessly for it in the arms of violence.

Jill Valentine, Barry Burton, David Trapp, Clive O’Brian.

Why couldn’t they have let him have this? Leon wished he could hate them. 

John set Leon down and took a step back, but kept his hands on Leon’s shoulders. Behind John, Chris didn’t relax until he had an angle to see his face. It occurred to Leon that Chris, who had always, _always_ asked Leon if and when he wanted to be touched, was concerned Leon would have fought being grabbed like that without permission or warning. Truth be told, Leon was too tired to care. 

“Jesus,” John said, wearing a grin that slowly faded as he looked over Leon. “You don’t look…” The man trailed off, something like dismay dawning. “… You don’t look like you’ve been doing what I’ve thought you’ve been doing.” John stepped away and looked back over his shoulder at Chris. The two men passed unspoken words between them and Leon wished the world they lived in was different. “Redfield,” John said. “Why does our residential Officer-gone-suburban-dad not look like a suburban dad?”

Chris’s mouth was a grim line. “I’ll tell you later,” he said. 

“Looking forward to it,” John replied sarcastically. “Jesus. _Jesus._ ”

“I’m fine, John,” Leon told him. 

“Well, I know that,” John said, dragging his eyes up and down Leon again in that friendly way that made Leon feel like he was in on some joke rather than actually being ogled. “If anything, you’re _too_ fine. Is this why I was told to wait to pick Redfield up? Y’all had to say hello after—” The mirth died in John’s words, but he kept a brave face. “Six years, right?” He shook his head. “Je-sus.”

“It’s fine,” Leon said because it had to be.

“Well, so long as you to made amends,” John sighed. “When’s the wedding?”

Chris and Leon couldn’t look at each other.

John’s face fell. “Y’all gotta be kidding me.”

“I’ll tell you later,” Chris repeated. “We— we’re leaving.” 

Leon wanted to scream and shout and cry and beg. He didn’t do any of that and nodded. 

“You serious?” John asked, obviously not on the same page as the two men who were waiting for the inescapable to break them both, body and spirit. “I mean, I hope I’m reading this wrong, but if I’m not, then there’s gotta be some way—”

_“We’re leaving.”_

Leon watched pity overtake John’s dark features. Maybe John was right, maybe there was some way they could make this work, but right now the world was too dangerous for them to try. Leon ducked his head, let his bangs fall in front of his face, and said to Chris, “Maybe I’ll see you again some day.”

“Now hold on a second—”

“John,” Chris cut in, voice wrecked. “Please stop.”

John’s jaw clicked audibly shut.

“Where are we going, John?”

“Terragrigia,” John said, unhappy. “There’s some shit going down, some sort of problem.” Leon’s interest was piqued. Terragrigia was an architectural marvel, an aquapolis built in the Mediterranean sea that was deemed a utopia by those who had constructed it. But last Leon had heard, there was some kind of outbreak taking place. Chris was going to be sent into that? Leon’s heart froze treacherously in his chest, but he swallowed down the gut reaction of panic. Chris could handle it— Chris could handle anything.

“Be careful.” Leon forced down the hurt and forced himself to look at the man one last time. “I’m looking forward to watching your successes.” He swallowed past the lump in his throat. “On you, Chris.”

Chris flinched like he’d been slapped. Leon couldn’t take it back. He took in a shaky breath and turned to head to his ride out of here, unable to face another moment when he was only prolonging the inevitable. He walked away, keeping himself tall and resolute, not letting anyone see his weakness as he fought not to break down. John started talking, saying things about Chris being an idiot, going after him, and that—

If Chris came after him.

If Chris followed Leon and took him by the arm and turned him around and asked to try regardless of what they’d decided, Leon knew he would. He’d drop everything, he’d stop being smart, he’d stop putting others before Chris. If Chris reached out and crossed the distance and asked Leon to make an attempt, then Leon would throw all of his decisions aside and try.

The distance between Leon and the plane to take him home grew smaller and smaller.

Then there was a hand on his elbow, a strong grip turning him around, and Leon’s lips were claimed by Chris. Relief surged through him so strongly he could cry and his knees wobbled as he kissed Chris back, both of them desperate and tired of hurting. He gasped softly into his mouth and smiled into the kiss.

Then Chris pulled away and said, “Watch your back for me, Kennedy.”

Oh—

Chris wasn’t—

This was it.

Leon swallowed hard and nodded as the tears brimmed again. “Of course,” he replied, his voice cracking. “Go make the world a little safer, Redfield.”

Chris’s expression twisted. “On you, Kennedy.” Then Chris was pulling away and turning back for John and the helicopter and that was— That was all Leon would have.

Leon kept himself tall and resolute and told himself that it was for the best.

He turned away as well and climbed into the carrier of the plane, greeted the pilot with dull formalities, sat down on one of the benches and pulled the helmet on before betraying himself and looking back to where he’d left Chris. 

The helicopter was already gone.

Leon stared ahead into nothing and mourned.

. . .

Hours later, stateside, Leon approached the quiet home with trepidation. He was exhausted from the flight and exhausted from the anguish in his chest. He missed Chris so much already that it felt like he’d been abandoned all over again as he had six years ago, but without the spite that had helped him go on. Leon had done it this time and he couldn’t blame anyone but himself. And now, here he was again, selfishly seeking out the same thing that had made him feel better six years ago, and the only thing that would make him feel better now.

The lawn leading up to the house was neatly trimmed with no flowers or shrubbery, a single tree down by the road, standing tall above the plain mailbox. The two expensive cars parked in the driveway glimmered in the setting sun. The house itself was three stories tall, red brick and white shutters with a peaked roof and a screen porch on the side with a fenced back yard behind. The night air was chilly and Leon’s new jacket— a standard leather thing he’d picked up from his locker at USSTRATCOM HQ— did little to fight the bite of the cold. The neatly painted white front door opened as Leon came up the stones steps, before he could knock. 

Derek C. Simmons had never liked Leon S. Kennedy and it always showed.

“You’re late,” the man said, his tone as stiff and uninviting as ever. “I need to discuss something with you before you come in.”

Leon came to a halt on the second-to-last step up, needing the distance. The cold eyes on him reminded Leon so much of his mother that he had a hard time being in this place, regardless of the other person inside. His instincts were always insisting he run and Leon had always fought them down for the sake of staying. Hell, Leon was pretty sure that the only thing Mr. and Mrs. Simmons hated more than each other was him. “What is it?”

“We’re cutting off visitation— permanently.”

Leon—

How had his life come to this?

“Oh,” was all he said.

Mr. Simmons nodded brusquely. “As she is to begin her senior year in high school next year, she will be going into university to pursue whatever degree her heart desires, and we do hope that she intends to go for a higher degree and will encourage as much. That being said, your visiting has been stifling her growth into normalcy. Are you aware that in her most recent creative writing assignment she labeled you as her inspiration?”

Leon wanted to collapse. “I was not aware of that, no.”

“Well, it was,” Mr. Simmons said, stiff and unhappy, like he was jealous. “And unfortunately, considering you are a ghost operative with very little to your official existence, we cannot risk the safety of special operations and top secret security clearance that goes along with your unnecessary visitations simple because you refuse to allow her to move on with her life and become her own person. That being said, this shall be your last visit.”

Leon wished he’d died back in Raccoon City.

“Of course,” he said, knowing it was useless to fight. “But if I may make a request?”

Those inhospitable eyes narrowed. “You may.”

“Please allow Claire Redfield to see her,” Leon said. “The woman who we know is looking for her. It’s important that we allow some sort of friendly interaction to aid in the coping.” The nightmares had never left. “Please consider this.”

Mr. Simmons dipped his head slowly like he regarded himself as some benevolent god, allowing Leon a moment of boldness at Mr. Simmons’ mercy. “We will consider it.” Only then did Mr. Simmons step aside. “Go in. She’s waiting for her friends.”

Leon held his breath as he walked past Mr. Simmons, head bowed, feeling small and afraid like he had as a child. Mrs. Simmons was standing in the foyer, regarding Leon with a vague disgust at his attire. He’d had a chance to change, but Leon was still wearing his working clothes. They always hated it when Leon was dressed for his ops when coming here. Leon held his breath when he passed her too, remembering how he’d do that when around his parents, trying to make himself as small as possible and even attempt to make himself not wholly exist to avoid their wrath. He moved quickly through the lower level to the common room in the back of the house with the bow windows that looked into the lush backyard, a chandelier hanging above a sitting area that overflowed with wealth that Leon didn’t belong amongst, the soft glow feeling cold until it landed on—

“Leon!”

Sherry Birkin.

Her dress was gorgeous and Leon wondered who had helped her pick it out, because he knew Mr. and Mrs. Simmons wouldn’t stand for the midriff showing. The top of the dress was embroidered and sleeveless, a dark blue that made Sherry’s pale complexion delicate. The lower half of the dress a chiffon A-line, making Sherry look like a princess. But the most beautiful thing about her was the bright smile she gave Leon as she ran towards him and threw her arms around his neck, kicking her feet of the ground because she knew Leon would hold her up. And Leon did. He wrapped his arms around his waist and lifted her up with the momentum, swinging Sherry in a spin that had her giggling like she would as a little kid. Leon buried his face in her neck. _He was going to miss her so much._

“You look amazing,” he gushed, smiling despite the misery as he lowered her back to the ground. “All dressed up and still no lucky guy? I get you trying to focus on school, but you’re a kid— you’re allowed to have a little fun.”

“Oh please, you sound like my friends,” Sherry groaned. “Aren’t you supposed to be all aggressive? No dating until I’m thirty or something?” Her gaze softened regardless. She knew exactly what Leon was referring too. Sherry deserved the childhood Leon had never had. Sherry deserved to be normal. And Leon— Leon was never going to see her again to give her a real chance at that normal. He knew Sherry didn’t know this was his last visit. He couldn’t tell her. 

“I’ll wait for the right person,” Sherry told him, winking playfully, trying to cheer Leon up because she could always tell when Leon became too haunted by all the things he’d seen. “But hey— I need a favor.”

“Anything,” Leon said, voice catching on the word. 

Sherry’s smile became somber. “I’m about to go to my first prom. Thing is, I haven’t danced in years.” Leon’s heart leaped into his throat as he remembered exactly what she was talking about. That moment in the hotel room with music filtering through that played in Leon’s rarely-pleasant dreams, the little girl standing on his toes and smiling up at him like he was someone she could trust. “Teach me again, Leon?” Sherry asked. 

Leon cleared his throat of the emotion strangling him. “Of course. We need music, don’t we?”

Sherry’s smile brightened considerably and she pulled away from Leon to dart over to the radio that was sitting on the coffee table. A disc was already inside, and Sherry hit play without hesitation, and—

A soft voice crooned familiar words into the room. 

_“I just wanted you to watch me dissolve, slowly, in a pool full of your love.”_

Leon had thought he was too tired from leaving Chris to cry again— how stupid had that been to think.

Sherry came back and pushed into Leon’s space, standing carefully on his toes in her heels, grinning up at Leon like he was her world. “I’m ready,” she said as Leon got a hand on her waist and tangled their fingers together, forcing himself into the motions so he wouldn’t lose himself to the wake of his dismal future. Leon began a slowl spin around the room, his footwork confident from years of training. 

A little known thing about himself— something Chris now knew, probably the only person to ever know— was how much Leon actually enjoyed dancing. Not the kind on TV with the fancy tricks and flips. He enjoyed dancing with another person. He’d been lucky enough to take a few school-mandatory lessons for upcoming events and had always wished he’d been normal enough to have a date, someone to dance with him. Now he had Sherry, making slow circles in the living area of a place that felt like a cell, hugging his daughter for the last time. 

Sherry held to him with all the trust in the world. She leaned her head on his shoulder and asked with quiet patience, “What happened to you, Leon?”

Leon ignored the tears that had rolled down his cheeks and stained the collar of his shirt. “Nothing,” he lied, knowing she would accept his words simply because, sometimes, Leon _couldn’t_ talk about it. He thought of Chris and couldn’t stop the tears. “Nothing at all.” He kissed the top of her head and wondered how he was supposed to keep fighting when he’d lost every reason to survive in a single day.


End file.
